


With a Warm and Tender Hand

by temple_mistress



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, First Time, Hurt Obi-Wan, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi in love, M/M, Protective Anakin, Romance, jedi feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temple_mistress/pseuds/temple_mistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a harrowing encounter with the enemy, Obi-Wan and Anakin manage to save themselves, but they're left on edge, with raw nerves and shaking hands. While they attempt to treat their physical injuries, the tension between them escalates, until they're forced to deal with the intense feelings they have for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on LJ December 2010.

" _ **When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand." ~**_ _Henri Nouwen._

  
" _Jump!"_

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin by the hood of his cloak, yanking as much hair as fabric, as Cody swung the transport just low enough for the two Jedi to Force-leap out of a boiling stew of blaster fire, mortar rounds, and the hum of two furiously battling lightsabers.

Hot, multi-hued blaster bolts and the sizzle-slap of native slugthrowers echoed around them as they tumbled into an ungraceful heap on the landing platform of the transport. Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of the remainder of the Shyleran Separatist militia continuing their desperate assault on the retreating Republic forces just before the compartment snapped shut. Letting out a long breath, he shut down his lightsaber and called on the Force to reach for his comm as it rolled across the deck.

"Cody, we're aboard, and not a moment too soon. Set immediate course for rendezvous with _Valiant_ , and contact us upon arrival. Kenobi out."

Obi-Wan brushed his combat-greasy hair out of his eyes and stood slowly, wincing to himself at the ache in his knee. Hooking his lightsaber back on his belt, he glanced down his arm, noting the telltale black singe of a blaster bolt that had burned through his cloak and last set of serviceable tunics. The knee had met with the durasteel of a super battle droid more times than he could remember, and he was sure that last jump had done it no favors. Obi-Wan rubbed at the tender knee, scowling more from the grime that came off on his hand than anything else.

He'd had worse in this war. Some nights, while lying under unfamiliar stars on worlds whose names he had already forgotten, he wondered how much worse it would get. Stealing a wary look down at the disheveled sprawl of the young man still at his feet, Obi-Wan was acutely reminded of how close he had just come to finding that out.

Anakin sat on the ramp, panting, his sweat-matted curls bobbing in time with each short breath. "Well, that was exciting," he said, forcing an uneasy grin. He knew how close their escape had been, and how much it could have cost him. But they were safe now. _Obi-Wan_ was safe. He let his head hang between his knees, trying to catch his breath.

" _Exciting_ is hardly the word I'd use," Obi-Wan returned curtly, brushing disdainfully at his ruined tunics as he limped past Anakin. When Anakin's soot-streaked face looked up at him questioningly, Obi-Wan saw the persistent trickle of blood running down his temple from a jagged scalp wound. "You're bleeding. Come."

Anakin used the back of his hand to wipe at his forehead, annoyed at the mix of blood and dirt he found there. "Great," he sighed, hauling himself to his feet. Noting Obi-Wan's unsteady gait, he frowned and laid a hand on the other man's shoulder to slow him. "Are you alright? Is it your knee again?" Anakin wound a sympathetic arm around Obi-Wan to lend his support. "Here. You should have let me—"

"It's fine," Obi-Wan said through clenched teeth, shrugging out of Anakin's hold and ambling the short distance down the transport's passageway. Once inside the small storage hold that had been converted to an emergency medbay, he silently gestured for Anakin to sit and went about scavenging for the necessary supplies.

Anakin sat on the edge of the small cot in the room, watching Obi-Wan meticulously set out a makeshift triage tray full of bandages, swabs, antiseptic, and bacta. Anakin loosened his belt and shrugged out of his cloak and tunics, groaning at the soreness of every muscle in his upper body. They'd been through this drill all over the Outer Rim—with Healers spread out among the clone battalions, it was up to the Jedi commanders to take care of themselves. And each other.

With a rattle, Obi-Wan carelessly tossed the tray down next to Anakin on the cot. "Your hair is filthy. Hold it back—I can't see," he ordered sharply, using a swab to dab antiseptic on what was, to Obi-Wan's relief, a superficial laceration.

Anakin carefully watched Obi-Wan from under his brows. He saw how tightly his Master's jaw was set, lips set in a firm line, how the skin around his eyes crinkled with worry and then relaxed in a way that no one save Anakin would notice, telling him that the cut was not serious. He tried to catch Obi-Wan's eyes but his Master stubbornly refused to meet them, concentrating instead on his task. "It's not a big deal, Master," Anakin mumbled impertinently, his ample ego bruised by having to be nursemaided like a youngling over something so routine.

"You could have been killed," Obi-Wan hissed under his breath, the tension returning to his jaw as he used his fingers to part back some unruly curls to view the extent of the wound.

Anakin offered an apathetic shrug. "But I wasn't, Master. It's just a cut. _Ow_ ," he complained, when the movement caused the antiseptic to sting. "Ha. You could only be so lucky—the Council would probably throw a party," he muttered sarcastically, fingernails scraping roughly at the dried smear on the back of his hand.

" _Lucky?"_ Obi-Wan froze, eyes fixing on Anakin, intense and sparking with a dark fire. "Don't...don't you _ever_ say that again, do you understand me?" he admonished, his voice trembling just enough to match the tremor in his hand as he quickly applied a translucent spray patch to the cut. "It should heal in a day or so, like they all do," Obi-Wan tersely informed him, moving away toward the sink.

Anakin held his Master's elbow, tugging until Obi-Wan turned and acknowledged him. "Why? Because it's the truth?" Anakin smiled faintly, and shrugged again. "I'm a warrior and I'm good in a fight, but I'm a lousy Jedi, Obi-Wan. You of all people know that. The only reason they made me a Knight is because of a _battle_ I won for them, not because I lived up to their Jedi ideal. You know the Council never wanted me—"

"Yes, _yes,_ I know, Anakin!" Obi-Wan erupted, cutting Anakin off with a furious wave. "The Council never wanted you and _I_ sure as kriff never wanted you, you were a _burden_ on me because of Qui-Gon and all that," he railed back in exasperation. Obi-Wan lifted his chin defiantly at Anakin's shocked expression. " _What?_ That _is_ how this particular story goes, does it not?" Yanking his arm free, he took the tray and shoved it with a loud clatter into the sink. _"Force_ , Anakin!" Whirling away from him, Obi-Wan slapped his palms down on the edge of the sink and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Anakin visibly flinched at the outburst. More than the clamor he'd made, it was Obi-Wan's uncharacteristic show of temper, rarely glimpsed even in the throes of Anakin's oft-troubled Padawan years, that startled him. He rubbed his hands together anxiously, staring at the tiles on the floor. "It's—it's still the truth," he persisted sullenly.

Obi-Wan snorted softly, shaking his head. " _No_ , it is not. It may have once held slivers of the truth, but I had hoped my endeavors all these years to show you otherwise had been enough, Anakin," he countered, his chin dropping to his chest despondently. "Apparently, I was mistaken." Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his mouth, raking his fingers through the caked debris he felt in his beard. "Really, Anakin..." he lamented under his breath.

"I...you..." Anakin stammered, as he reached into his hair and gently walked his fingers over the length of the cut, trying to gauge its size and location. "It's kind of hard to forget, you know. What you— _they—_ were like back then." Unlike the one under his fingers, it was an old wound for Anakin, one that had never fully healed.

"Is that why you act as you do? To prove that the Council— _that I—_ was right about you?" Obi-Wan tilted his head up and regarded the clinically white ceiling of the medbay with disinterest. "Or, that I was wrong?" Turning, he leaned heavily against the sink, folding his arms across his battle-ragged uniform. He absently picked at the blackened hole the blaster bolt had scored across the shoulder of his tunic before looking at his former Padawan. "Is it a test of your abilities, to see how close you can come to death, only to revel in the thrill of repeatedly cheating it?" He shook his head with disdain. "That smacks of pride, Anakin."

"I know that, Obi-Wan," Anakin returned sharply, ducking his head at the rebuke. "It's—it's not that," he continued in a low voice, avoiding the chastising look he could hear in Obi-Wan's voice. "Your turn," he murmured, almost contrite as he approached his Master. Slowly unfolding Obi-Wan's arms, he started in on the now-familiar task of divesting Obi-Wan of his belt and tunics. His fingers worked quickly, discarding the torn and soiled vestments to the floor in disgust.

Anakin wrinkled his nose at the pile on the floor and lazily nudged it under the cot with the edge of an equally feculent boot. "Well, not that exactly, I guess. I-I don't know. Maybe. Sometimes," he admitted reluctantly. Meticulously moving his hands over the body he knew maybe even better than his own, a worried frown creased his lips and crinkled the scar over his eye. "I don't like this one—slug?" His body pressed close and firm against Obi-Wan's as he reached around his Master to rifle through the mess of supplies now cluttering the sink. "Here, hold this," he said, handing Obi-Wan a half-empty jar of bacta and a pain patch.

"Slug," Obi-Wan assented with a half-smile and a nod, noting not for the first time how his body subconsciously took comfort from Anakin's nearness, and the warmth it was providing now against the coolness of the medbay. "Irritatingly effective for such an uncivilized weapon," he mused, suppressing a hiss when Anakin affixed the pain patch to the large blue-black bruise on his chest. "I'm afraid I'll have to face that one in the mirror for quite some time," he chuckled, turning around dutifully between Anakin's inquisitive hands. He rolled his shoulders and was rewarded with a satisfying series of cracks and pops, feeling exhaustion starting to replace the battle-infused adrenaline in his body. "What do you mean? Why sometimes?" he asked, dipping his head forward to stretch his neck. "How is that not prideful?"

Stopping him mid-turn, Anakin bent in close, his breath warm on Obi-Wan's skin as he gently traced the edges of the blaster burn, making sure it was completely cauterized. "Cody'll be disappointed; this one's just a graze, you probably won't even get a scar," he said with mock disdain, smiling weakly at his own joke. With an antiseptic sponge, he carefully dabbed away the remaining bits of charred threads. "Bacta now," he decided, grabbing the jar from Obi-Wan's hand to attend to the scorched streak marring the lightly freckled shoulder.

"It's not pride, Master, not when I _know_ what I can do, and what I _must_ do, is it?" Moving to stand behind his Master, Anakin attentively trailed his fingers and eyes across the well-known map of Obi-Wan's back, noticing a few new reddish scrapes and cuts, but nothing that required immediate attention. Each would be a memorial to this mission, joining with the constellations of scars that chronicled Obi-Wan's participation in the war. Sometimes, Anakin wondered which one of them would claim the most by the end of the war. Sometimes, after missions like this one, he seriously wondered if they'd even _make it_ to the end of the war.

He pulled a burnt-orange blade of Shyleran sea grass off Obi-Wan's neck and turned it over in his hand thoughtfully. "It's...it's the way it feels, I guess. I...I don't have to think, I just... _act_. It makes order out of the chaos of battle, to feel—to just _know_ —what needs to happen next, and doing whatever it takes to make it happen." Anakin wasn't sure if Obi-Wan was consciously aware of just how many times this particular _ability_ had saved his Master's life. Anakin didn't care if it was his pride or the will of the Force driving him, he would call on it whenever need be, if it meant keeping Obi-Wan safe. "You've got a good couple of scrapes, but otherwise you're okay," he pronounced quietly, with a small pat to Obi-Wan's back. "What about your knee?"

"You must _think_ , not just act, Anakin." Obi-Wan bent down with a quiet groan, gingerly pressing at his tender kneecap and the supporting ligaments and tendons. "It has been better, but nothing a good soak in a thermal bath cannot alleviate."

"Maybe _Valiant_ has one you can use; that bruise'll heal better with some heat, too." Anakin propped a boot up on the cot, releasing the buckles one by one. " _'Think, Anakin.'_ You've been telling me that my whole life, Master."

"And yet, you do not listen." Obi-Wan shook his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. "The Force has given you so many _gifts,_ Anakin. Exceptional gifts that should not be so carelessly squandered nor thrown to the wind, _nor_ into this Sith-forsaken war, for that matter! You're a Jedi Knight now, not some feckless Temple-bound Padawan performing parlor tricks for your friends. You have to stop taking so many unnecessary and _foolish_ risks, just because it _feels_ _good_ to you or to prove you're indestructible. You're _not_."

Anakin's jaw dropped in outrage. " _I_ take unnecessary and foolish risks?" He finished with his other boot, yanking it off by the heel to thump dully on the now-muddied floor. " _I_ do? And what about you?" Anakin straightened and squared his shoulders, glowering despite the strain in his voice that betrayed both his frustration and the fear that washed over him unbidden. Countless hours of meditation had yet to diminish his holo-perfect recall of each moment Obi-Wan's life had been in peril during the course of the war.

"Me? What about me?" Obi-Wan challenged, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "I serve the will of the Force, as all Jedi do, Anakin. I do not run off in reckless pursuit—"

"You do it every time we go out there, Obi-Wan! Geonosis? Ohma-D'un? Cato Neimoidia? Zigoola?" Anakin accused, counting each battle off on his fingers. "Ja-" he began, the words catching in his throat as he tried in vain to name that mud-bathed planet that had stolen Obi-Wan from him. " _Jabiim_?"

Anakin's hand began to shake, and he clenched his fingers into a tight fist to steady himself. "Don't stand there and pretend traipsing off for a Sith world with nothing but a lightsaber and _Bail Organa_ wasn't foolish, and don't you dare try to convince me that Jabiim was _'necessary'._ "

"Of course it wasn't!" Obi-Wan fired back, provoked by the memory the mention of that system brought with it—unwanted memories of the stench of death in the mudfields, of the endless suffering on both sides, of how Ventress had nearly broken him with taunts of Anakin's death. Regardless of hours spent in healing trances and rehabilitation, he had accepted that Ventress would forever leave a stain on his soul, less for her whip than for her poisoned words. "Catastrophic loss of life is never necessary, but we are at war, Anakin!"

Anakin opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Obi-Wan held up his hand in protest, tiredly sinking to rest on the cot. "Anakin...don't. Just...don't. I'm not going to argue with you about this, because you know what I do—what I have done—I've done because it is my duty. I am a Jedi Knight, it is what I have been called to do."

Anakin huffed loudly in frustration. "So am I! Maybe not a great one, but I know how to get the job done, Obi-Wan. How can you call it 'duty' when you do it, but turn around and deem it 'foolish' when I do?"

Ignoring the sharp twinge in his leg when he stood abruptly, Obi-Wan crossed his arms and began to limp around the confined space. "Because more often than not, it seems that it is!"

"That's not fair, Obi-Wan," Anakin protested hotly, petulantly adding, "Besides, everything I know I learned from you!"

"I shudder to think if that were true," Obi-Wan returned drily, turning carefully on his heel to consider his former Padawan. "Anakin, your _duty_ is to the will of the Force, to the Jedi Order, to the Republic. It is not your _duty_ to get yourself needlessly killed."

"And neither is it yours!" Anakin argued impudently. "You can't tell me the Force is willing you to take on impossible missions with impossible odds, or that it's your duty to sacrifice yourself to whatever kriffed up mission Windu's too afraid to take on himself. I don't see him sending Jocasta Nu on pleasure cruises with dandy-assed Senators."

"Language, Anakin!" Obi-Wan reprimanded harshly. "And it is by no means your place to question _Master_ Windu's commitment to the Republic and the Order. As for Madame Nu..." Obi-Wan smirked, abruptly covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Completely losing his composure, he choked back a laugh, imagining the Order's rigidly stern Archivist pleasure cruising with...anyone. He wagged a scolding finger at his partner, ever mindful of Anakin's maddening ability to undermine his Master in the midst of a lesson or dressing down. " _Inappropriate_ ," he coughed, fighting down another bark of laughter, "but I will accede to you on that point. Be that as it may, however, it does not alter the fact that that stunt down there today—"

"—Got us the datachip we were sent here to retrieve," Anakin interrupted brightly, anxious to capitalize on the momentary levity. It was like old times, circumventing his Master's lectures and getting Obi-Wan to lighten up. Obi-Wan laughed far too little now; his beleaguered carriage and dimmed Force-signature betrayed his fatigue to Anakin's knowing eyes. He wanted to believe that the war had done that, but in his darker moments, a persistent voice whispered that it was Anakin's doing. He wished he could make Obi-Wan laugh as much as he seemed to frustrate and anger him lately.

"We did our duty, mission accomplished. So things got a little bumpy at the end," he added blithely, "but we're okay. On to the next mission, live in the present moment, end of story, right?" he prompted, with a vigorous nod and wide toothy grin.

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed; for as much as that mouth got Anakin into trouble, a smile like that could get him out of it, but Obi-Wan had been his Master for far too long to succumb to such obvious manipulation. "No, _not_ 'end of story'! You have obviously been spending an over-abundance of time cavorting with Quinlan—you sound just like him, Force help us all. You conveniently omit the part where you were surrounded by Shyleran slugthrowers and a half-dozen droidekas!" Obi-Wan retorted in outrage.

Anakin slunk past Obi-Wan and went to the basin, haphazardly tossing the mess of supplies back on to the tray; undoubtedly they would be needed at a later date, they always were. "Only because your sneeze tipped off those droidekas that we were in the bunker, Master," he said over his shoulder, lips twitching in amusement. Anakin had been on his way out of the bunker when he felt the warning in the Force; the sharp hiss of a sneeze piercing the silence, the thunder of rolling destroyers and the _thump, thump, thump_ of slugs missing their mark. He'd been in motion before the first droideka had locked its shields, propelled by the fire of his fidelity to Obi-Wan. "C'mon, I saved your ass with my...diversion," he boasted, unable to temper his pride.

Obi-Wan threw his hands in the air incredulously. "Your _diversion_ nearly got you killed, Anakin! This is precisely what I'm talking about, this careless disregard for your life and your duty. Your duty was to accomplish the mission!" he snapped, slapping the counter next to Anakin.

Half of the content of the tray slid back into the sink in a clamor as Anakin jerked his head back over his shoulder. "I _was_ doing my duty! Stop lecturing me like I'm that nine-year-old bantha's runt fresh out of the Rim, Obi-Wan!" He righted the tray with a touch of the Force and slumped against the basin. "The mission would not have been completed had you been blasted to bits by those droidekas," he contended, voice low and muffled as lowered his head, rubbing at his neck. "Part of my duty is to protect you, too, you know. You're my Master."

"For love of the Force, I am a Jedi Master, not a youngling in the crèche, Anakin. What I need is for you to do you duty, and to follow orders!" Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and took a steadying breath. "I had already transmitted a copy of the datachip to Cody, as you well know is standard procedure for any reconnaissance mission. It was _your_ duty to make sure the information made it to the Council and the Senate on Coruscant, _not_ to stage an elaborate rescue for the nasally-challenged!"

Taking a long moment to center himself, Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest and scuffed the heel of his boot over the toe of the other. "Furthermore, you are not," he continued lecturing, but paused again, slanting his eyes to the floor as he sought out a more measured tone, "beholden to me; my safety is my own affair. Need I remind you that you are a Knight now, and I am no longer your Master?"

Anakin swallowed hard and stared at the older man, then lowered his head as he retreated to the medbay's viewport, holding his hand up against the blur of passing stars. "It may not mean anything to you—maybe it never did— but you will _always_ be my Master," he insisted defiantly, his eyes meeting Obi-Wan's reflection in the transparisteel. He turned, chin held high and proud. "And to that end, I always have, and always will, do anything in my power to protect you. _That_ is my duty. Don't ask me to forsake that, _Master_ , because I cannot. I _will not_."

Troubled, Obi-Wan frowned deeply. "Oh, Anakin. Don't...say such things. It is..." he trailed off, looking away uncomfortably. _Attachment._ Rather than clarifying their relationship, Anakin's promotion to Knight had permanently altered what had been their familiar, established roles, continually erasing and redrawing the boundaries between them, never seeming to leave them on solid ground for very long. No longer Master and Padawan, Obi-Wan knew what their relationship _should_ resemble by now. With a silent groan, he nervously raked both hands through his already disheveled hair. He also knew it most assuredly _did not_.

As he crossed the short distance to the viewport, his leg spasmed and he faltered, noting with a low grunt that the discomfort seemed to have moved considerably beyond his knee now. With the aid of the Force, he drew the pain in and shunted it aside—he'd meditate later or submit to a narcotic, if warranted. A bump to an aging knee was negligible; Anakin was the one who had shed blood this time. Hesitantly, he rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder, clearing his throat gruffly. "Here now, let me look at you. I will wager that head wound is but the beginning; you seem to have a questionable affection for bacta, I dare say."

Anakin slouched in surrender, recognizing Obi-Wan's expertise in deflection at work. It was a skill that made his Master an excellent negotiator, but in Anakin's opinion, also a master of often aggravating avoidance. No one could touch Obi-Wan when it came to his deftness in changing the subject. "If I do," he allowed, turning away and bending his chin down, "it's only because you'd take it all yourself, otherwise." Craning his head to the side just enough that one eye peeked out from the tangle of matted curls shrouding his face, he said with mock seriousness, "You're an addict, admit it."

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow and gently turned Anakin's head forward again. "Hmm...I have no idea what you're talking about," he denied mildly, the warmth of a smile coloring his voice. He reached up and ran his fingers lightly but methodically over Anakin's dust-caked neck and shoulders, looking for more wounds that needed his attention. Obi-Wan exhaled slowly with a resigned nod; the man himself was a walking wound that needed his attention. He always had. Angry, pulsing, aching, raw—that was Anakin. "You're wrong, you know," he let slip, biting his tongue in dismay at the unintentional admission.

"Ugh." Anakin grimaced at the firm press on a bruise on his ribs. "Of course I am," he muttered irritably to himself. Even though he would always honor Obi-Wan as his Master, in no way did that mean he would always defer to his Master's penchant for exceedingly pompous lectures. "About what now?" he asked with wary suspicion, sucking in his breath at the light tickle of Obi-Wan's exploring, soothing fingers tracing their way across his abdomen.

"Sorry, checking for fractures." Working the inside of his cheek, Obi-Wan kept his eyes averted, focused intently on searching Anakin's skin for further damage. "It...it meant—it means—a lot to me," he admitted quietly. Reluctantly. He leaned in close to examine one of the deeper abrasions just under the ribcage, pursing his lips thoughtfully. Then, almost inaudible over the din of the transport's hyperdrive engines he added, "More than it should, of that I'm certain."

Anakin froze. "Wait. What?" Confused, uncertain if he had heard correctly, he squinted down at his Master, trying to suss out the words again. "W-what does?"

Keeping his hand pressed warm against the skin of Anakin's waist, Obi-Wan straightened up with a long breath. "That I was your Master. That you are my _friend_ now, my partner, the only Jedi I want to fight beside me and the only one I trust to cover my back unconditionally." His hand dropped, soft smile dissolving into a slight frown. "Even when you do it at the expense of everything else, even yourself," he said in quiet reproach.

Eyes widening in surprise and unusual humility, Anakin withdrew and leaned against the viewport, flinching when the cool transparisteel made contact with his skin. Pleasure and pride flowed over him and he smiled shyly, lowering his eyes. "Th-thank you, Master. I—I guess I didn't know that, not really. I mean...I wanted you to..." he stuttered, suddenly self-conscious and not knowing how to put his emotions into words. Anakin had hoped, yes, that one day his Master would come to trust and rely on him as a true partner, as an equal, but he had never really expected the other man to actually acknowledge him that way. "At Jabiim...I wasn't with you, and you...you almost...after you came back, I promised..." Anakin cleared his throat, once, twice. "I _won't_ allow that to happen again," he vowed, knocking the edge of his fist against the viewport.

"Anakin, Anakin." Obi-Wan reached out and firmly grasped the younger man's forearm in his hands. "We have been over this. It was not your fault. It is in the past, and that is where it should remain. Let it go," he urged, with a pat to Anakin's arm. "We dwell not on what has happened, nor what is to come, but focus on what is now." Obi-Wan recited the words by rote, but recognized the hypocrisy in them; the memories had refused to remain banished for him, as well. For Anakin, it was that he'd failed to protect Obi-Wan from capture and torture. But for Obi-Wan, it was the disquieting knowledge that Anakin had put everything on the line to save him—and that he'd had every belief and faith in his former Padawan to do just that.

Anakin nodded, letting out a shaky breath. He set his free hand over Obi-Wan's, feeling the scabbed knuckles dry and rough beneath his palm. Drawing in his bottom lip, he tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed with confusion. "But Master...why...why do you say you trust me to protect you, and then say you don't want me to?" Glancing down at their joined hands, he watched the edge of his thumb drag over his Master's, hearing the rasp of callous against callous.

The friction gave rise to an unfamiliar warmth beneath their hands, a sensation equal parts comforting and uncomfortable. "Because it is too much for me to ask, and too much for you to give, Anakin. Because I don't...I can't...I _shouldn't.._. _want_... you to," Obi-Wan fumbled for the words, loathing his verbal ineptitude and the desperate timbre in his voice. He needed to say this, needed to make Anakin understand why it was wrong. _Kriff_ , he needed to make _himself_ understand.

Quickly sliding his hands out from Anakin's, he moved back to the sink, fiddling with the remaining supplies. "I...I _don't_ want you to protect me. I don't want your protection at the expense of your life, and you give me that without any hesitation, without any thought to the consequences." Obi-Wan spun around and pointed at him accusingly. "You _don't_ think, you simply _act_. I...I _don't_ want to _rely_ on that and I do. Far too much, and that's the precisely the issue, Anakin. Don't you see?"

"Master?" Bewildered, Anakin took a step forward, but Obi-Wan recoiled, pulling away just out of reach. "Master, I...I don't understand. Why—"

" _Because I would do the same for you._ I just _did_ , back there on Shylera!" Obi-Wan cried despondently, gesturing out the viewport at the shrinking world they were leaving behind. "We are _Jedi_ , and our duty is to the Force, to the Republic, to a good far greater than we are, and without a second thought, I just turned my back on all of that, all of my training, _to get you out of there!_ "

Anakin blinked rapidly, absorbing Obi-Wan's words as a sickening knot began twisting in his stomach. "I see," he acknowledged with a curt nod, unable to keep the angry hurt out of his voice. "You don't want to be obligated to me. I'm a Knight now, so your _duty_ to me ends, is that it?" He lunged back to the cot, hands scrambling to retrieve his tunics and cloak. "I'll be sure to remember that the next time you get your ass caught in some Sep crossfire or Ventress decides she didn't do enough damage the last time and wants to finish the job!"

Obi-Wan cringed at the words, long accustomed to Anakin's temper, but never his cruelty. Dismayed and alarmed, he shook his head in denial, pleading with his partner and best friend. "Anakin, no. You're not listening—"

" _You're_ the one not listening!" Anakin shouted insolently, his face flushed with anger now. _"_ You think Windu or any of those cowards on the Council will come for you? Because they _won't_. They were willing to leave you for dead the last time, as if you were of no importance, as if you had never _existed_ ," he spat, voice cracking with his contempt. "But _I_ didn't give up, _I_ didn't believe you were dead, and I _came for_ _you_ ," he whispered fiercely, punctuating every word. "Because you're important _to me,_ Obi-Wan."

Hastily scooping up his mud-crusted boots, Anakin kicked out savagely at one of the clods of dirt that had fallen from their treads, then laughed, short and bitter. "My mistake for assuming the same from you." He faced the door and stiffened, inhaling sharply through his nose before he spoke again. "Thanks for the bacta, and for getting us out of there. It...it won't be necessary again. I'll make sure of it," he said coldly, head down as he palmed open the door.

"No. No, no, no," Obi-Wan shook his head again in desperate denial, reaching for him with an outstretched hand. _"Anakin—"_

The door hissed shut.

Stunned, Obi-Wan collapsed heavily against a storage cabinet, clutching at his leg as it threatened to give out on him completely this time. Knocking his head back with a _thump_ , he pressed his face into his hands, grasping for any kind of serenity the Force had to offer.

He found none.


	2. Part II

Midway through his third furious circuit around the transport's passageways, Anakin halted abruptly, shoving his tunics, cloak, and boots onto an already cluttered storage shelf. He shivered, his skin prickling from an overhead draft as the ship's life support systems cycled on. Rolling his eyes, he realized he'd not even bothered to stop for a change of clothing, much less a shower.

Anakin pressed his fingers to his temples, unable to quiet the throbbing behind his eyes, and he had little faith in the capsules he had scrounged out from the bottom of a forgotten pouch in his utility belt. His head ached miserably, as it often had in recent months; he assumed the blow to his scalp was the culprit this time. He scowled. Fighting with Obi-Wan hadn't done him any favors, either.

_Obi-Wan._ Anakin sighed and rubbed at his eyes, exhausted. It wasn't just the common battle fatigue he could sense permeating the aura of the troops on the ship; this far into the war, he was used to fighting relentless battles with droid armies and fierce Separatist rebels for days, weeks, months on end. He leaned into a hatchway, absently using the Force to lift and rotate the capsules. Staring through them, he scowled again, knowing it was the emotional battle he'd just endured with Obi-Wan—the anger, frustration, and insult they had hurled at each other—that had left him drained.

And baffled. He thought back over recent months, wondering just when things with his Master had become so complicated, when suddenly doing his duty was somehow _wrong_ , when saving someone's life without a second thought had become selfish and unjustified. It was what he did, what he had always done, and he had thought—had _believed—_ that Obi-Wan felt the same way.

Anakin wondered how he had mistaken Obi-Wan's _duty_ to him for something more than it really was.

Snapping his hand closed around the vial, Anakin pushed himself up out of the hatchway. None of it mattered, because he knew he would never stop protecting his Master; he had staunchly told Obi-Wan as much. He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. He didn't care if it was wrong, he didn't care if putting his Master's life before his own violated the Code, he didn't care if the Council busted him down to Initiate, as long as he was there to make sure his Master made it through this war. _That_ was his kriffing duty, bestowed on him by the Force the very day Obi-Wan took him as his apprentice, and no one, not even Obi-Wan Kenobi, would persuade him otherwise.

Gnawing on his lip, he continued down the dim corridor on his way toward Obi-Wan's quarters. Obi-Wan may not need him, but Anakin, to his continuing shame, _needed_ to be with Obi-Wan, just as he did after every mission. No one understood, not even the clones who fought and died by his side, the toll each battle, each _death_ , took on him. How it was wearing him down, how he felt the Force being siphoned out of his soul, how isolated and alone he felt under the weight of his responsibilities to his men and to the Republic.

But Obi-Wan knew. He had always known, ever since they'd stood side-by-side at Qui-Gon's pyre, and he'd gently led a horrified, shell-shocked boy away from disapproving eyes, allowing him the simple comfort of a shoulder to cry on. When Anakin grew older, even as he preached detachment and sternly encouraged his Padawan to find respite in meditation, Obi-Wan had never turned him away, always ready to share the burden with him. With the advent of war and their unwilling complicity in the deaths of millions, it had become an unspoken ritual between them; they meditated, watched an unmemorable holo, or choked down a tasteless meal. Other times, Anakin simply watched his Master clean his boots or mend a tunic, taking comfort in the mundane until it lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

After he'd stalked around the ship to no avail, Anakin had to grudgingly admit to himself that he'd find no rest, no _relief_ ,after another day spent trafficking in the twin arts of death and destruction. Not on his own. As hurt and embarrassed as he still was by his childish misreading of their partnership and his subsequent inability to rein in his volatile temper, he was determined to swallow his pride and apologize—not for the first time—for his recklessness, for his insubordination, for every last one of his stupid emotions. He would do anything, everything, he needed to do, to keep Obi-Wan close. To keep him safe. Even if it meant having to accept that when his Master had cut his braid, he had also cut Anakin loose.

Shuffling up to Obi-Wan's quarters, Anakin sighed nervously, and chimed the door, pausing only long enough to palm it open before walking in. "Master?" he called out hesitantly. "Obi-Wan? Can we...I mean, may I—"

Obi-Wan stood in the small space between his bunk and the sink, his leggings hanging loose about his waist, frowning as he looked down and regarded his hip suspiciously. Clenching his jaw, he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and slid his hand down his left hipbone, between the fabric and his skin, slowly prying the two apart. With a low _"nnughhh,"_ he removed his hand, muttering one of Anakin's favorite Huttese curses to himself when he saw the wet crimson stain on his fingers.

Anakin's hand went slack, plummeting the vial of pain meds in his hand to the floor, scattering capsules everywhere. He immediately rushed to Obi-Wan's side and clutched his Master's shoulders, concern etching itself in deep lines across his forehead. "You're—you're hurt," Anakin's voice wavered, his eyes flicking rapidly between the bloodstained leggings and Obi-Wan's face. "Why... _Why_ didn't you comm me?"

Startled by the commotion, Obi-Wan jerked his head up and glared, forcibly wresting himself from Anakin's hold. "I'm... _fine_ ," he gritted out, refusing to meet his partner's worried eyes. "And do forgive me, but I was under the _distinct_ impression that I was on my own now," he bit back, swiping at a dirty lock of hair that fallen into his eyes, leaving a light streak of blood above his brow.

Anakin paled, rapidly shaking his head in protest. "Master, I didn't mean...I would never—"

"Oh, no, I do believe you made that _quite_ clear." With one hand modestly holding his leggings closed, the other in a white-knuckled grip on the sink, Obi-Wan tried to move around Anakin, clenching his jaw tighter as each step jarred his already-injured knee. "If you _please_ , I would appreciate some privacy here."

"Master, stop. _Stop._ Let me take a look." Anakin stood firm, bringing his hands to Obi-Wan's waist to halt him. "It's a lot of blood, you could have embedded shrapnel, a nicked artery, a—"

" _Kriff!"_ Obi-Wan swore, batting the younger man's hands away, finding himself trapped against the cold metal edge of the sink. "I said _I'm fine_ , Anakin. It's nothing. Why are you even here? Just...go." He gave Anakin's bedraggled appearance a disparaging once-over. "Really. Go find a 'fresher." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You need a shower."

Anakin furiously grabbed Obi-Wan's hand and turned it over, smearing blood onto his fingers. "I'm not going anywhere. Look at your hand," he demanded, yanking it up between their faces. " _Nothing?_ My bantha's ass it's nothing. You're bleeding!"

Squatting down on his heels, Anakin quickly wiped his hand on his pants, then reached up, hesitantly resting his hands on the stained edges of the waistband. Feeling the dampness seeping through under his fingers, he raised his eyes, unable to mask his distress. "You need to have this taken care of. Just let me see."

"Please, _ah,_ just let me, _ah—_ " Obi-Wan said gruffly, halfheartedly slapping at Anakin's hands again, only to have his slapped away in return. "It's nothing, none of your concern, Anakin. I'll...I'll take care of it later. I...I need to contact the Council, make sure they got the data—"

His hands never easing their grip, Anakin stood and determinedly steered his Master back toward the bunk with a frustrated growl. " _When_ will you understand that you _are_ my concern? Forget the Council! Obi-Wan, you're _bleeding_. Cody will make sure they got the data. _Let me help you_ ," he implored, begging Obi-Wan with his eyes as much as his words. " _Please_."

" _If you must,"_ Obi-Wan acquiesced, sitting down with an annoyed groan and leaning back on his elbows. He bared his teeth when Anakin pulled back the fabric that had re-adhered to his skin. "In the name of— _do_ take care, Anakin, I'm not one of your droids!"

"Sorry, Master," Anakin winced in apology, taking greater care to slow his movements. "As if I could ever confuse you with a droid." Reaching for some dressings, he flashed Obi-Wan a sarcastic smile and began cautiously blotting away the blood. "You know, even _Threepio_ knows to run a self-diagnostic when he—" Anakin trailed off, a deep furrow marking his brows as the magnitude of the injury grew with each successive press of the gauze.

Obi-Wan huffed with indignation. "If you are inferring in any way _at all_ that I am in some way similar to that officious protocol droid of yours, I swear—" Taking the cue from Anakin's sudden silence, he craned his neck to get a better look, catching the younger man's troubled expression. "That bad?"

" _Yes,"_ Anakin growled, fixing Obi-Wan with a dirty, knowing look. He scrutinized the area closely, then exhaled with some measure of relief. "And no. Looks like you caught some sonic shrapnel."

Obi-Wan's hip and upper thigh were peppered with tiny red welts, evidence of an inaudible sonic concussion blast, a weapon designed specifically to inflict considerable damage on living beings without the use of conventional projectiles that could damage droids and other war matériel. Although remarkably painful and unnervingly bloody, sonic shrapnel wounds were common on the Outer Rim worlds. If not treated properly, sepsis could take hold in less than a day; they had lost nearly a squadron of troopers on Saleucami in the early days of the war, prior to the discovery of the exotic bota derivative that would seal and heal the miniature puncture wounds immediately.

"Oh, is _that_ all?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I told you," he chided Anakin between short, pained breaths, "it's _nothing_." He struggled to sit up, pressing his hands against the bunk for leverage.

" _Stang._ You are the most stubborn..." Anakin took hold of his shoulders, pushing him back. "It'll be _nothing_ once you get some bota on it. You think I don't know how much each breath is making it burn like a supernova right now? Look at you, you can hardly get a word out," he admonished with a disapproving frown. Twisting back, he gestured with his chin at the small oval of marks on his left shoulder blade. "Ryloth was weeks ago, and it still stings in the 'fresher sometimes." He scanned the room. "Where's your kitbag?"

"Over there, by the door." Obi-Wan's mouth drew down in regret, recalling the fever Anakin had succumbed to after refusing treatment. "You...you've never said anything...I had no idea the effects had lingered like that. I am sorry, Anakin. If only we'd had more bota then..." It was yet another example of Anakin putting himself at risk without regard to the possible consequences. He had been fortunate. Obi-Wan didn't believe in luck—but he also didn't want to know when luck stopped believing in Anakin Skywalker. "It..it really is hardly...noticeable...at all," he insisted, trying to control the hitch in his voice that came with each intake of breath.

Anakin shrugged it off matter-of-factly. "It was my choice not to use any, I knew the risks. We were able to save a lot more of our men by rationing it before we reached that Rimsoo." He brushed over his shoulder absently while using the Force to call over the kitbag. He rifled through it, grinning in triumph when he produced a small ampule of the salve.

"Good thing Barriss had us stock up on this stuff when we docked with that medical frigate near Drongar," Anakin rambled on, eager to move the subject away from Ryloth, yet another mission he was sure Obi-Wan would use to point out his former Padawan's 'foolish and unnecessary' actions, regardless of the outcome. The last thing Anakin wanted was another fight, not right on the heels of the last one. He felt guilty enough that his outburst had left a wounded Obi-Wan alone to tend to himself. "We've got plenty—although I didn't think we'd be needing it so soon. At least yours'll heal up quickly."

"Yes, well...I'll be sure to put in my endless thanks to the esteemed Healers for yet again predicting our insatiable need to continually sustain bodily harm." Obi-Wan lay back with a muffled grunt, folding his arms to rest beneath his head. "If I didn't loathe them so much, I might feel inclined to be in their debt." He turned his chin toward Anakin, eyes narrowing. "You need not mention that to Barriss, yes?"

Wandering over to the sink to wash his hands, Anakin snickered. "Are you kidding me? We're in enough trouble as it is for the last time we were in there, when you demanded Bed Seven instead of Nine because of—what was it, oh yeah—a _supposedly_ -clanking heater, _then_ you tore into that apprentice for not bringing you _chocolate_ pudding, _and then_ you begged me to sneak you out twelve hours early." He shook his head, slow and deliberate. "Nope, not gonna tell. We need first dibs on supplies too much." No one knew better than Anakin just how much truth there was in Obi-Wan's sarcasm—and his own. Their successes on the battlefield never came without a price; only by the blessing of the Force had they made it this far without cashing in all their credits.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Oh, honestly. You make it sound so _dramatic._ What is so outlandish about wanting a quiet room to convalesce in? And really, you know how perfectly awful that sludge that passes for vanilla is—I don't know why they even bother if they're not going to use authentic Ithorian vanilla." He folded his arms across his chest with a huff. "And if I am not mistaken, it was _your_ idea that we alleviate ourselves of the Healers Ward. Something about a _podrace_ , hmm?" He looked pointedly down his nose at Anakin, smirking.

Despite their ordeal with the Healers and his claimed distaste for the sport, Obi-Wan remembered fondly how they had shared a comfortable, relaxing evening together—Anakin had even managed to finagle Dex into delivering a pack of sliders and two containers of chocolate ice cream to celebrate their homecoming. It seemed like a very long time ago, that camaraderie, that closeness.

He missed it. With their near-celebrity status as the 'go-to' Jedi team and that disorienting, jarring tension that now lay frustratingly unresolved between them, he wasn't certain anymore that they would—or could—return to it. A tendril of anxiety flared with the realization, and Obi-Wan fisted his concealed hands tightly to suppress it, leaving him with an unsettling whisper of loss in its retreat.

"You only _say_ you don't like podracing, but we both know the truth," Anakin chuckled in concession, rolling the bota ampule between his palms. Growing somber, he twisted the stopper off, tapping some out into his hand. "How...how did you miss this? I don't remember any Shylerans holstering sonic blasters." He warmed a dollop on his palm, and biting his lip in concentration, used just the tips of two fingers to paint long strokes of bota across the affected area.

Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, the initial touch igniting a burn across the sensitive skin. "N-neither do I," he tried to recall, struggling to keep his body from tensing at the continuous contact and pressure. "Wh-when, again, does this stuff start to _help?_ " he complained, warily following the long fingers continuing their passage over his hip. Exhaling deeply, Obi-Wan felt the sudden welcome presence of the Force beckoning to him, enveloping him with its warmth, willing him to surrender to its healing currents. With an inaudible sigh, he closed his eyes, accepting rather than resisting, channeling the warmth through him, allowing him to melt with the pain. Obi-Wan blinked open his eyes, finding Anakin doing the same, his normally bright blue eyes darkened and unfocused.

"Better?" he asked his Master softly, blinking a few more times and giving his head a quick shake to clear his vision. Almost without thought, Anakin had reached out to Obi-Wan through the Force and merged their Force-signatures, lending Obi-Wan his strength, his very Life-Force, to smooth away the jagged edges of pain that flared in the Force. It wasn't exactly a technique the Jedi sanctioned—merging with another signature was considered reckless and dangerous, often rendering the donor disoriented within the Force, unable to fully disengage their signature from another. But not Anakin.

The first time, on Ando Prime, had been an accident. Never one to admit to any kind of illness, Obi-Wan had been struggling through negotiations despite a case of Corellian Flu (never mind that he had forced his young Padawan to report to the Healers for a panel of inoculations prior to their departure). After a coughing fit that threatened to halt the proceedings, Obi-Wan had privately pleaded with Anakin to fetch him a drink—anything—as quickly as possible. Anakin had found a tea vendor just outside of the meeting hall, and rushed back to his Master, assured that the hot drink—tea was Obi-Wan's favorite—would help him feel better, unaware that the Andoans infused their tea with hoi broth.

When Obi-Wan collapsed, choking and convulsing from his allergic reaction, Anakin, feeling helpless and afraid, had pleaded with the Force to _help_ him, to help Obi-Wan. And somehow, it had. Given his Master's ability to court danger even in the most benign of circumstances, there had been other instances since Ando Prime, some so minute and fleeting that Anakin was hardly aware that he'd done it. But there had also been times, like on Rattatak, when he'd found his Master beaten and near death at the hands of Ventress, that Anakin felt like he couldn't possibly give _enough_ of himself to save Obi-Wan. Losing himself in the Force—in Obi-Wan's Force-Signature—wasn't disorienting. It was like finding peace. It was like _home._

"You didn't have to do that," Obi-Wan grumbled irritably, looking away. He _hated_ to be vulnerable like this, to have Anakin see him like this, ensnared by his body's limitations. He hated having to _need_ Anakin's assistance, whether it was to save him on the battlefield or to save him in the aftermath. It alarmed him, how _familiar_ Anakin's Force-signature had become, how he had readily opened himself to it—to _Anakin_ —without hesitation, how _easy_ it had become for the two of them to blend into one, taking and giving in equal parts. By all rights, he knew it should have felt invasive, wrong, violating. Disheartened and confused, he released a pent up breath. It felt like none of those things. It was comfortable, it was soothing, it was... _welcome._ He turned to Anakin, nodding grudgingly. "But...yes. Thank you."

Anakin acknowledged him with a sheepish smile before returning his attention to the bota. "So, uh, if it wasn't the Shylerans using the sonics, where did it come from?"

"I d-don't know. P-perhaps the droids have a new t-toy," Obi-Wan stammered, continuing to watch Anakin painstakingly work the salve down to his thigh, smoothing it in delicate circles over the indentations. When the younger man's hand hesitated, then slid a little further into his leggings, bota-warmed fingers probing for any further injury, Obi-Wan rolled his gaze to ceiling, swallowing hard a couple of times before trusting himself to speak. "I-I was rather...preoccupied, I suppose," came his strangled confession.

" _Preoccupied?_ Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi was _preoccupied_?"Anakin couldn't resist teasing, dipping his fingers back into his hand for more bota, the barest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Is that even _possible_?"

Obi-Wan let out a derisive _"harrumph,"_ then winced regrettably from the strain it caused. "I am hardly perfect, Anakin," he professed with deep humility, once more daring a glance down at his caregiver, watching as he finished up with a final brush to one of the deeper wells. As the anesthetic properties of the bota took hold, he released a long breath, briefly allowing himself to indulge in the lull of tranquil restoration the derivative had provided.

Bracing a hand against the edge of the bunk, Obi-Wan gingerly sat up with a wary sidelong glance at his partner. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought," he tossed right back with a straight face. "You've clearly become delusional."

Anakin wiped his hands on a towel and stuck out his tongue in response. "Very funny. I see your sense of humor is as damaged as ever, Master." He tossed the towel and empty ampule into the receptacle next to the sink.

"Indeed." With a wry grunt, Obi-Wan swung his legs wearily over the side of the bunk and set his still-booted feet on the floor. "There wasn't time to catalog all of their weaponry, Anakin; we were cornered by droidekas behind us, Cody had reported mortar batteries ahead of our position..." Frowning, he brushed at the mud that had dried and sullied the light blanket covering the bunk. "When I saw the line of battle droids encircle you..."

Obi-Wan's hand came up and covered his mouth, rubbing thoughtfully over his chin out of long habit. "When I saw that, all I knew was..." he hesitated and stared at the floor, willing himself to forget what could have happened had he _not_ pulled Anakin out of there in time. He wasn't comfortable revisiting this with Anakin, not when he'd already failed so spectacularly to make the younger man understand why his—their—actions had been _wrong,_ culminating in angry shouted accusations and further, hurtful estrangement. "All I knew was that we needed to get out of there," he finished quietly.

Anakin's hands began to shake of their own volition and quickly he locked them into angry fists at his sides, backing away from the bunk. "Y-you mean, you were _preoccupied_ because of—because of me." He turned, suddenly slamming both fists hard against the quarters' storage lockers. Pressing his forehead to the locker, Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, breaths quick and shallow as his fingers dragged down the metal with a piercing squeal. "You were too busy having to save us—save _me—_ from the mess I'd made of the mission," he concluded flatly, grinding his forehead against the locker.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, shaking his head slowly. "Anakin, that is not what I said. It was very chaotic—it was a _battle_ , for Sith's sake." He closed his eyes briefly and scratched behind his ear before continuing. " _I_ wasn't my primary concern—completing the mission, _getting out of there_ —was _._ When we got onboard, you...you were in obvious need of treatment, far more so than I. You were bleeding and that took precedence over any discomfort I may have felt."

Anakin barked out a mirthless laugh and dragged himself around to lean heavily against the locker, banging his head back on the metal, hard. " _Discomfort?_ Your hip had been flayed open and you chose to ignore it!" he seethed.

"I did not choose any such thing, Anakin." Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes impatiently, scowling as he lifted back his leggings to take a quick visual inventory of his body's most recent acquisition. It wasn't the pain that bothered him, nor any kind of personal vanity; it was recognizing his failure, recognizing the danger his distraction had brought to both of them. "And I have not been _'flayed'._ It is a minor dermal trauma that I simply did not take notice of until after the fact. As the senior Jedi on this mission, it is my duty to triage—"

Anakin jerked his head up off the locker and held out a defiant hand, eyes flashing angrily. " _Don't!_ Don't you lecture me again about duty, Obi-Wan, not after— " Mouth open and ready to unleash all of his anger and frustration, the words all but died on his lips when the corner of his eye caught the ugly purple-black slug bruise on Obi-Wan's chest. His eyes drew down of their own volition over the scorched and reddened blaster burn on Obi-Wan's shoulder, the bloodstained leggings that partially concealed the sonic damage, the cuts and scrapes and smudges and dirt...

Anakin blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the sudden burn of tears as he fully absorbed the totality of the damage done to Obi-Wan on Shylera. Damage that could have been avoided. _Should have_ been avoided, had his Master not been forced to extricate them after Anakin had failed to do his duty—both to the mission, but more importantly, to Obi-Wan.

He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, smearing dirty streaks of ionized particulate over his reddened cheekbones. "All I had was a _cut_ , Master. But you—" he choked on the words, his attention drawn to the mess of bloodied dressings strewn about the floor. Hand shaking unsteadily, Anakin lifted an accusing finger, pointing erratically at Obi-Wan's injuries. "L-look what I've done to you!" Flooded by overwhelming guilt and shame, he broke into a restless, agitated prowl about the cramped space near the end of the bunk.

" _What?"_ Obi-Wan gaped in disbelief, then narrowed his eyes darkly, trying get a lock on Anakin's panicked eyes. "Separatists and sonic blasters did... _this_ ," he said sternly, gesturing impatiently over his torso. "Anakin, look at me. Please." Pressing a hand to his hip, he cautiously inched his way down the length of the bunk. Obi-Wan held out an imploring hand, determined to diffuse the roil of dark emotions threatening to overtake the other man. "Anakin, _look at me._ Do not take this on yourself. _Anakin_..."

Head down, eyes screwed shut, Anakin shook his head obstinately. "It's my fault, all my fault..." he muttered, relentlessly pacing back and forth, clenching and flexing his hands.

Pushing himself up with a grimace, Obi-Wan shuffled forward, reaching out to grab hold of a flailing arm. "Calm down, Anakin," he cajoled gently. "Please, you need to sit—" He twisted awkwardly, doubling over in a litany of curses when the toe of his boot snagged the edge of the blanket. _"For the love of—kriff!"_

Anakin felt the warning in the Force and jerked his head up, eyes wide. _"Obi-Wan!"_ Concern overtaking his anger in the fraction of an instant it took him to rush to his Master's aid, he caught Obi-Wan by the shoulders, steadying him. "Why are you up? You shouldn't be up yet!"

When Obi-Wan answered with nothing but another growled Huttese curse, Anakin canted his head down, frowning as he took in his pale, pain-stricken face. "I didn't even think you _knew_ that one," he marveled under his breath as he carefully maneuvered himself to Obi-Wan's side. Even with the knowledge that his Master's use of such a filthy slur revealed just how much pain he was suffering, Anakin couldn't help the quick smile that touched his lips. His Master _had_ listened to him at some point over the years.

"Here, lean on me," he offered, and being mindful of the blaster burn, looped Obi-Wan's arm around his neck while hooking his own arm back behind his Master, drawing them close. "Just what in the name of the Force were you doing, anyway? You know the bota's barely set," Anakin chastised through gritted teeth, slowly guiding them back toward the bunk. "Now sit down and let it set, for kark's sake!"

With an infuriated glare, Obi-Wan dug his fingers into Anakin's shoulder and grudgingly allowed the other man to help him down onto the blanket. "Then do not..." he wheezed, panting through each pained breath, "make me...come after you."

Anakin ignored him and thrust out an open hand, calling over another gauze pack with a hard _smack_ against his palm. "You've probably started bleeding again," he scolded in return, reaching out to part back Obi-Wan's leggings. "Better let me—"

" _No_."

Obi-Wan's Jedi reflexes seized his hand, holding him at arm's length. Anakin looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise, and tried to pull away. "Master, you have to let me—"

Obi-Wan tightened his grip, refusing to relinquish his hold on him. "No."

Beginning to fidget, Anakin tried again, glaring at the other man impatiently. " _Master,_ come on—"

Obi-Wan's eyes were fierce when they bore right back into Anakin's, mirroring the cold intensity in his voice. "Not until you sit down." When Anakin slanted his eyes away, Obi-Wan jerked his hand in warning. _"Not until you sit down,"_ he repeated slowly, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin groaned and reluctantly sank onto the bunk next to his Master. "Okay, okay, I'm sitting," he grumbled. He looked expectantly at Obi-Wan and then shifted his gaze to their firmly clasped hands. " _Now_ can I check it?"

Obi-Wan gave a single nod, lightly squeezing Anakin's fingers before opening his hand. Steeling himself, he leaned back just enough so that Anakin could make a quick perusal of the area. Hearing a sigh, he smiled tightly and grasped Anakin's shoulder to pull himself back up. "Satisfactory, I presume?"

"Yes." Anakin bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees, taking fistfuls of curls in each hand. "Master, I...I never meant...I would never..." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the chorus of mocking voices that sang of his guilt, his fear, his shame. Obi-Wan had been hurt because of him. Obi-Wan had been hurt, even though Anakin had done what he felt was _right_ , what he felt his _duty_ was. He trusted Obi-Wan with his life, he always would; to look at his Master now, it was little wonder why Obi-Wan didn't _want_ to trust Anakin with his.

"You're right, you shouldn't trust me, or have to rely on me to protect you. I'm not—" his voice caught in his throat and he coughed, "not very _reliable."_ Anakin rocked against his knees, fingers twisting and pulling at his hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...I'm sorry about...Obi-Wan, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Ignoring the protest of his hip, Obi-Wan twisted abruptly and stilled Anakin, yanking a hand out of his hair. He grasped Anakin's chin with his fingers, forcing him to look at his Master. "No. _No_." Obi-Wan growled fiercely, lifting Anakin's chin with a sharp jerk. " _Stop this._ This is not your fault. You did what you felt was right, and you...you saved my _life_." Voice softening, Obi-wan smiled gently, dropping his hand to Anakin's shoulder. "You _always_ save me."

Anakin lowered his eyes, fingers shakily tracing the bruise on Obi-Wan's chest. "B-but you still got hurt," he whispered miserably.

Obi-Wan spared a glance to Anakin's hairline. "As did you. Because you were saving me, yet again." With a sigh, he stopped Anakin's hand on his chest, wrapping a calloused hand around his partner's. "You cannot keep doing this. You cannot take this...this... _responsibility_ for me on yourself. It is too much." He gently squeezed Anakin's hand and looking away, he whispered, "For both of us."

Anakin took a long breath and pulled his hand from Obi-Wan's, wiping both palms repeatedly over his thighs. "But you're my Master, Obi-Wan. _My_ Master. I made a _promise._ To you, to myself, to the Force, to be there to protect you." He tilted his chin up, exhaling loudly. " _And I wasn't._ Not at Jabiim, not at Zigoola, and on Shylera... How could I just...turn my back on you, put a _datachip_ ahead of your life?Abandoning you didn't feel... _right_ , to me, Master." He hung his head shamefully and flopped back against the wall of the bunk. "It will never feel _right,_ " he mumbled disconsolately, crossing his arms and slouching. "I know it makes me a worthless Jedi, I know."

Obi-Wan sighed, folding his hands in his lap. "It does not make you worthless; it makes you, well...you." He looked back over his shoulder at his partner, smiling tiredly. "As I am here, and not so much worse for the wear, I suppose at this point it would be completely disingenuous for me to wish you had felt otherwise." Digging his fingers into the blanket, Obi-Wan cautious pushed himself back across the bunk, settling himself with a quiet grunt against the wall next to Anakin.

"But, Anakin...that is..." Obi-Wan paused, cleared his throat, and avoiding Anakin's eyes, brought one leg in to pull through the laces on his boot. "It's _attachment_ , you know it is. It is not a luxury Jedi are afforded. I...I know that has often been of little comfort to you, and this war has put a strain on us all, but it remains a fundamental principle we as Jedi live by." A principle, Obi-Wan knew, he no more lived by than Anakin did; it was one of Obi-Wan's heaviest burdens, a struggle compounded by the lingering insecurities of youth and the sudden loss of his own Master. He could _understand_ Anakin's struggle, but he could not understand how _comfortable_ Anakin seemed with it, how natural and _right_ it obviously felt to Anakin to embrace, rather than reject, those attachments that called to him. Obi-Wan winced, straining as he tried repeatedly to bend and reach the sole of his boot.

Anakin nodded his silent agreement; there was nothing new in Obi-Wan's lecture, nothing Anakin didn't already know nor hadn't castigated himself a thousand times over for feeling. He knewin his _head_ it was wrong, just as he knew in his _heart_ it was right, and the only way he would ever be.

"Huh?" he asked distractedly, dragging his attention back to his Master when a sharp elbow caught an already-tender spot in his side. " _Ugh._ You're going to open that bota..." he warned under his breath, and shaking his head, reached over to yank Obi-Wan's boot off by the heel himself. Carelessly, he tossed it toward the door, scowling at the unexpectedly loud _thud_ and the dark mark it left on the durasteel.

"I could have done that myself," Obi-Wan scowled in turn. "And kindly do not _throw_ my things about; I happen to like that pair as they are the only ones that have yet to leak." With a casual wave of his hand, he uncharacteristically called on the Force to right his boot and set it next to the door, catching the look of astonished judgment on Anakin's face. "Oh, _what_? Like you never."

Mildly affronted, Anakin pointed at the door in protest. "Never like that!"

Obi-Wan barked out a laugh. "I most certainly beg to differ. If I had a credit for every time you've used the Force for menial tasks—really, Anakin, _brushing your teeth?—_ I could retire and—"

" _Retire?_ You, Master Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi, 'The Negotiator,' _retire_?" Anakin threw back his head and howled. "And then do what? Sit around all day in hover chairs with Organa, sipping fancy Alderaanian ales while Twi-leks rub your feet, talking about...about...whatever it is Boring, I mean Bail, Organa talks about?" Anakin snorted, leaning over to bump Obi-Wan with his shoulder. "Come _on._ You'd never retire," he grinned knowingly. "If you did, how else would you get yourself into situations that require me to come to your rescue, huh? Sounds pretty boring to me."

" _Shoulder_ , please," Obi-Wan grimaced, awarding Anakin with another elbow to the side as he pushed Anakin away from his blaster burn. "And it's _Senator_ Organa, Anakin. _Senator,_ " Obi-Wan corrected, his amusement coloring his admonishment. "And honestly, hover chairs and Twi-lek podiatric massages? He's a respected Senator, not a Hutt!" Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh. "Leave it to you to make a mockery of a more...genteel...lifestyle. There's nothing wrong with the way Bail lives—regular hot water, decadent cuisine, shimmersilk bedding, aged Corellian brandy served in glasses instead of a locally and questionably fermented grain slurped out of a canteen, a lack of exploding mortar shells, no surge of adrenaline from the constant peril, the absence of imminent death... Irritatingly, you have several valid points." He frowned at Anakin, then held up his hands, laughing his concession. "All right, all right, it is not for me, you're right." The smile dimmed on Obi-Wan's face and he regarded Anakin soberly. "And not for the first time, either. What you said earlier, in the medbay, when we were...before you..."

"Before I...before I left?" Anakin offered quietly, his eyes reflecting a deep remorse as he recalled the words they had exchanged. He had said so much. Too much. Too many things he had never meant to say, and too many things he had never wanted Obi-Wan to know.

"Ah...well, yes." Seeing the hurt in Anakin's eyes, Obi-Wan shifted his gaze away uncomfortably, unconsciously pressing his fingertips to his hip. "What you said then, about coming to my rescue. You were right, Anakin."

"Master, I—" Anakin interrupted quickly, afraid of where this was going, wanting to apologize, to say he didn't mean it, that he could never mean it, but Obi-Wan held up a hand to halt him.

"I'm admitting you were right about something, and you're interrupting?" Obi-Wan chided drily, quirking his eyebrow. Resting his head against the wall, he turned, offering an easy smile that belied the sheer effort it took for him to outright _lie_ to Anakin, to lie to _himself_. A lie to make them both believe in something neither of them wanted, but that Obi-Wan _had_ to believe was the right thing, if not for him, than at least for Anakin.

"Yes, you were right. I...I think it is accurate to say that I seem to have developed a reckless dependence on sensational last minute rescues. But I assure you, Anakin, you will no longer find yourself having to charge halfway across the galaxy just because I fell into a nest of gundarks or some other humiliating horror. After all, one would assume that a Jedi Master should have the means to avoid such scenarios, don't you think?" With a halfhearted chuckle, he gave Anakin's thigh a firm pat and attempted to start in on his other boot.

"So you see," he continued quickly, knowing that if he stopped to allow Anakin to respond he'd lose whatever conviction he'd managed to cobble together for this staged performance of an upstanding Master Jedi, "you won't have to worry about bailing out your old Master anymore, as it should be. I promise you, I shall endeavor to comport myself in a manner befitting a Jedi Master, and should I find myself in any further... _predicaments,_ I will make no presumption of assistance and gauge my actions accordingly," he smiled with false cheer, sparing a glance at Anakin. Unable to keep up the pretense, Obi-Wan ducked his head and fixed his attention on his boot, fumbling clumsily at the laces. "Just...just think of the bacta we'll save," he joked lamely, the words drying up in the air between them.

Anakin took a long blink, nodding dully. "Uh, yeah. The bacta. That's...that'll be great." He sat immobile, staring at nothing, numbed by the arrival of an eventuality he had so long feared: Obi-Wan was really cutting him loose, ending their partnership. Despite his Master's earlier assertions, Anakin knew with a heavy certainty that he had caused this, that his reckless behavior, his awful words and uncontrollable emotions, had finally driven what little trust Obi-Wan had in him, what little obligation his Master felt for him, away completely. So disappointed and put off by Anakin's inability to shed his attachments, Obi-Wan would sooner risk his own safety than continue in a partnership that burdened him with a commitment he no longer wanted from Anakin, and had never intended nor wanted to give to Anakin in return.

Anakin shivered in the cool air and drew his knees up, frowning as he toyed with a frayed hole in his leggings. His ineptitude may have cost him Obi-Wan's trust, but he refused to allow it to cost him _Obi-Wan_."About before...what I said in the medbay...I...let my emotions...I didn't mean..." Wrapping his arms around his knees, Anakin hugged them to his chest. "Master, I will always have your back, even if...even if you don't feel...I mean...I don't expect..." Resting his cheek on his knees, he turned to Obi-Wan and smiled bravely, trying to mask the hurt in his heart, the lies on his tongue. "It's okay. You're a true Jedi, Obi-Wan. I understand."

Obi-Wan felt time slow and warp, felt the boot slip from his hand and roll unceremoniously off the edge of the bunk, felt his breath knocked from him, as though he'd been hammered by the unforgiving kickback of a concussion rifle. _You're a true Jedi, Obi-Wan._

Anakin's words had touched a cord deep within him, one that in an instant twisted and transformed the intended compliment into a damning criticism of what had become his identity, of what and who he had aspired to be his entire life. He was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, but he wasn't sure what that meant anymore. Melida/Daan, he thought, had been his crisis of faith, his time to question his identity and to firmly recommit himself to this path, to being _a true Jedi_. He thought it was behind him, the self-doubt and insecurities, but Anakin's words had shaken him, and he felt like an imposter, a shape-shifter draped in Jedi robes, unsure of who he was, who he was _supposed_ to be. All that he had done, all that he would ever do for the sake of duty and in the name of the Jedi...it seemed somehow meaningless now, a Pyrrhic victory of the soul, if being _a true Jedi_ meant not having Anakin at his side. Obi-Wan didn't know anymore how to be the Jedi he was expected to be, and still have Anakin in his life. But what kind of a Jedi would he be, without him?

Obi-Wan stared across the room, unblinking, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. "I don't think that you do," he countered flatly.

"Hey, no, really, I do. I get it." Anakin tilted his head back as he spoke, trying to pull himself together enough to swallow his emotions, to _accept_ what he could and could not have from Obi-Wan, as long as he was _safe_. He nudged Obi-Wan with his shoulder, gently this time. "But don't think you can get rid of me so easily. Just because you say so doesn't mean I'm going to listen, you know," he added, as blithely and cavalierly as he could muster. "It's just the way I am. I say...I do...stupid things, I know, because of my attachments, because I can't control my kriffing emotions. But you..." Anakin blinked hard several times, then turned to Obi-Wan with a lopsided smile. "When I was a kid, I wanted so much to grow up to be just like you, to not have any of that," he said softly, wistfully. "I wish I had."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in torment. "That," he choked out brokenly, "is so patently untrue." He turned, slowly dragging his eyes up to meet Anakin's, frowning at the unshed tears he found him trying so hard to blink away. "I am nothing more than a fraud, Anakin." Obi-Wan's hand shook as he brought it up to cup Anakin's jaw, his eyes darting over the younger man's face, from the bacta residue at his hairline, down over the scar that crossed his eye, to the particulate that had left a charcoal shimmer on his cheek. Solemnly, he brushed at the crystals with the backs of his fingers and sighed, casting his eyes downward. "I've done you such a disservice."

Anakin reflexively leaned into the touch, his hand coming up to rest over Obi-Wan's, tapping at his wrist until his Master looked at him. "What are you talking about? _I'm_ the fraud here, remember? Reckless, defiant, full of emotions and attachments—not really Jedi material. You, on the other hand—"

"—am a fraud." Obi-Wan stilled his hand on Anakin's cheek, turning it just enough to grasp a couple of Anakin's fingers. "And a coward. For not being able to...able to... Anakin, I...I have...and I shouldn't..." He swallowed thickly, letting Anakin's fingers slip away. He watched as his hand drifted back to the nape of Anakin's neck, tangling his fingers in the warm matte of curls there. "I have att—" Obi-Wan choked and cleared his throat, unable to give voice to the word, even though he knew Anakin deserved the truth.

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath, drawing Anakin's forehead to rest against his, noses grazing alongside the other. "When you said before...why you came for me...that you think I don't...don't...what I didn't say, what I _couldn't_ say..." he whispered haltingly, breath hot and frantic against Anakin's ear. He tightened his fingers possessively in Anakin's hair, holding him close. "You _are_ important to me, Anakin, more than you could ever know. I...I could not live with myself should any harm come to you. Do not ever doubt that."


	3. Part III

When the meaning of Obi-Wan's words hit him, Anakin released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. More than a lingering obligation, more than a duty to be served, Anakin _meant_ something to Obi-Wan, he was _important._ Unable to stop the quiet whimper of relief that stole from him, he closed his eyes, feeling the tears trickle out from under his lids. He was an _attachment_ to Obi-Wan. "You...you don't know how long I've waited for that," Anakin said hoarsely, running a warm open palm from Obi-Wan's shoulder up to rest over the hand in his hair.

"Too long, it seems." Obi-Wan exhaled wearily. Too long had he hidden his cowardice, too long had he hidden his multitude of failures when it came to his duty to Anakin. Suddenly aware of their proximity, of the heat of Anakin's cheek against his, the dampness of sweat on skin beneath his fingers, he pulled back, extricating his fingers from Anakin's hair with determined diligence. Frowning, he dragged the edge of his thumb through the wetness that shone over the scar under Anakin's eye. "You shouldn't have been waiting."

"It's...it's okay, Master. I told you, I understand," Anakin smiled tremulously, ducking his head and rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I would have waited forever, Obi-Wan. It was worth it, just to hear you say you—"

"Oh, Anakin, no. _"_ Obi-Wan took hold of Anakin's shoulders firmly, giving him a quick shake. "That is not what I meant. You shouldn't have been waiting _at all_. You shouldn't have been waiting for something that was never supposed to be, something that we have both been trained to renounce in the name of the greater good we serve."

He looked away, letting his hands drop. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better Master to you. If I had trained you properly, you would have learned to let your emotions, your attachments, go. Another Master would have taught you not...to want, not to need." His voice dropped to a penitent whisper, hands twisting in his lap restlessly. "I am sorry, Anakin. You deserved so much more. I have...I have failed us both."

Anakin bolted upright off the bunk with a dangerous, frustrated growl. "For fuck's sake!" he shouted, glowering down at his Master incredulously. " _You,_ Obi-Wan Kenobi, are more than I _ever_ deserved. _No one_ else would have taken me on, _no one_ would have had the patience and understanding and unbelievable _faith_ in _me_ to get me here, to take a backward slave boy and somehow carve out a _Jedi Knight_." Breath hitching, he stormed over to the door, stomping the bottom of a bare foot angrily against the durasteel. " _You_ didn't fail me, Obi-Wan. _I_ failed me."

Anakin turned back wearily, resting his hands on his hips as he heaved a deep breath. "And I don't _care_ anymore what the Jedi say I can and cannot _do_ or _think_ or _feel_. I _know_ I'm not the Jedi I'm supposed to be, but that's not your fault. _My_ feelings are not something that _you_ can control, Obi-Wan," he said, stabbing a finger first at his chest, then at his Master. "You should know that by now."

Obi-Wan snorted derisively, dropping his head into his hands. "Obviously. But I can—I _should—_ be able to control _my own_ weaknesses. To not allow them to compromise my duty to the Jedi, or my duty to you."

"Why does it have to be a weakness?" Anakin demanded, beginning to pace again "Why can't it be a _strength_ , to need someone, to...to... _love_ someone? I feel stronger _because_ of you, Obi-Wan; it doesn't feel like weakness to want to fight, to _live,_ for someone else, to be _with_ someone else."

Pressing his fingers against his temples, Obi-Wan let out a despondent moan. "Anakin, _don't_. Please. Don't say that..."

Anakin spun around sharply. "Say what? That I can't imagine my life without you in it? That I don't _want_ to live a life without you by my side? That I need _you_ , more than I need the Jedi? That you're as essential to me as the Force?" He crossed the room in three quick strides, kneeling in front of Obi-Wan, his hands clenching the older man's thighs. "Believe me, I've _tried_ not to feel anything, not to have attachment, but I can't _._ _I love you,_ Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan jerked his head up, shocked. "You don't mean that, Anakin. You're exhausted, you...you don't know what you're saying," he refuted, shaking his head vehemently, not allowing himself to comprehend what it would mean if Anakin _did_.

Anakin's eyes narrowed and he scowled darkly, sitting back on his heels. "No. _No._ You don't get to do... _that._ You don't get to sit there and tell me you have attachment and then tell _me_ I don't—or can't—love you. _No._ "

"Fine, then. _I'm_ exhausted, Anakin!" Obi-Wan snapped suddenly, shoving off Anakin's hands. He plucked at his leggings agitatedly before slamming his hand on edge of the bunk, rattling the metal. "I'm tired of filthy clothing and I'm tired of the atrocious smell of bacta and I'm tired of this fucking war! I'm tired of waking up and worrying that today will be the day you go and get yourself killed, knowing that it will be _my fault_ , because I should have trained you better!" he yelled, closing his hands around Anakin's upper arms, shaking him roughly.

Enraged, Anakin jerked backward, throwing off Obi-Wan's grip. "You think I'm not tired of the _fucking_ war, Master? You think I don't wake up _every kriffing day_ thinking the exact same thing, that today will be day that I won't get there in time to save you, that it will be _my fault_ because I was never _good enough_ to have been your Padawan in the first place?"

"Do not even start with that again, Anakin!" Obi-Wan shouted with a dismissive roll of his eyes. "I don't know why you persist and persist in that belief when you know very well that is not true!"

Anakin stared at him, a bitter, broken laugh cutting the silence. "Do I? _Do I?_ You don't even want me as your partner anymore!" he pointed out, roughly cuffing at the hot tears of frustration that prickled at the corners of his eyes. "You say I'm your best friend, your _brother_ , but you never let me get close. _I'm_ tiredof never knowing where I stand with you anymore, of feeling like I mean _nothing_ to you, only to have you turn around just now and tell me you care, that you have _attachment,_ and then you push me away again,saying _I_ can't want, or _feel_ the same way about you, that I can't love—"

" _That is enough."_ Obi-Wan yanked Anakin up forcefully between his knees, glaring as he bent forward, breath hot on Anakin's face. " _Enough_." Panting, he raked his eyes wildly from Anakin's dangerously dark eyes down to his too-close, too-provocative mouth. "You want to know why we can't be partners anymore? Do you?" he gritted out, brutally digging his nails into Anakin's shoulders. "Because I am _so_ tired of fighting this... _thing_ with you!"

"Then stop fighting it!" Following Obi-Wan's restless gaze until they locked in a heated, challenging stare, Anakin lunged closer, just a hair's breadth between them. " _Stop fighting it,_ " he repeated, growling low and hot against Obi-Wan's mouth.

Both of them froze, stunned into a breathless silence as Anakin's lips lingered there, soft and slack, a kiss and not really a kiss. After a moment that felt like an infinity, Obi-Wan's hands relaxed against his shoulders and Anakin inhaled softly, easing his mouth open just a fraction more, wanting to feel more of Obi-Wan's bottom lip against his, wanting to make it _real_.

When Obi-Wan felt the movement of Anakin's mouth against his, the gentle tug on his lip as it slid between Anakin's, a swell of long-dormant desire flared to life within him, and for the briefest of moments, Obi-Wan Kenobi _allowed_ it. In that space between instants, he allowed it to wash over him, to feel the heat and passion and desire and... _Anakin._ The sensation was as decadently overwhelming as it was frightening, threatening to drown him in its intensity. Suppressing an almost anguished moan, Obi-Wan forcefully pulled himself back, breaking the kiss.

"Ana-Anakin," he croaked, his mouth suddenly as dry as his lips—Anakin's lips?—were wet. "No, no...I can't," he protested feebly, mind and body reeling as they fought an internal battle of wills, of what was right and what was wrong, of what he wanted and what he needed, of being a Jedi and being a man, of being isolated and being complete. "I can't," he repeated, breath increasingly rough and unsteady, unable to temper his emotional chaos enough to call on the Force for guidance.

Anakin groaned his frustration, his breath just as erratic. " _Why?_ Tell me why! Because the Code says so? Because the Council does?" He gripped the edge of the bunk and closed his eyes, willing his emotions into a calm he rarely possessed. "The Code was written at a time without war, when the Jedi were keepers of the _peace,_ not the bringers of war. And the Council? They sit high in their chambers, deciding who will live and who will die, but they haven't seen what we've seen, had to do...the kinds of things we've had to do. They have _no idea_ what it's like out here, what it smells like, sounds like, _feels_ like," he declared bitterly, struggling to keep his voice calm. _"None."_

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan then, his eyes betraying his desperation as much as his determination to make his Master _hear_ him _._ "What do they know about death and loss and valor and brotherhood and—" He pressed closer, feeling Obi-Wan's hands give just a little against him. "And love?" he implored in a passionate, broken whisper.

" _Don't..."_ Obi-Wan shook his head, locking his arms as he pressed his palms flat against Anakin's shoulders. "I-we _can't,_ " he insisted blindly, trying not to hear Anakin's words, trying to shut out the truth in them, because...because a part of him, that part that was weak with attachment and emotion, that part that had _allowed_ him to feel and to _need_ , knew Anakin was _right_. And it frightened him to his core.

"Stop it," Anakin cried, reaching up between them to clamp his hands around Obi-Wan's. "Stop pushing me away! Look at us—we're all we have out here. You've been my world for so long, my Master, my partner, my best friend...I don't want to do this alone. To be alone... Don't make me be alone, Obi-Wan." He tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's hands, begging the other man to look at him. "Please."

Obi-Wan knew what Anakin was saying, he knew exactly what he felt. He knew the bone-weary loneliness that had hung over him like an ill-fitting cloak for most of his life, how he could feel complete and yet completely separate when in the company of his fellow Jedi, the brotherhood by which he _should_ feel embraced and gratified. Instead, he felt that camaraderie, that sense of belonging, continually eluding him, as though he was wrapped in flimsiplast, able to see but unable to fully connect with another being.

Except for Anakin. It had always felt different to be around Anakin, to bask in that white-hot fire Anakin's presence gave off in the Force, unbalancing and grounding Obi-Wan at the same time. He knew how different it felt to have _shared_ a life with Anakin, how that sense of completeness had comforted him in the darkest of days, from Qui-Gon's death to Ventress to whatever the Force still held in the ready for him, knowing that for Obi-Wan to survive, he also needed Anakin to survive. _Oh...oh Force,_ Obi-Wan sighed deeply, finally resigning himself to this truth. He needed...Anakin. The sudden clarity brought a hint of a frown as much as a smile to touch his lips. _He needed Anakin._

"I...I don't mean to push you away... It's just...I..." Obi-Wan gazed down at the strong hands covering his own and trembled, from the warmth they gave as much as the power and passion that flowed through them. "Don't you...can you not see...Anakin, I..." He sighed again. "I don't...I can't...do this alone, either. I...I _need_ you," he said quietly, glancing away in embarrassment. "I need you. But I'm afraid..."

"Afraid?" Anakin smiled even as his brows crinkled up with confusion. Obi-Wan needed him, _Obi-Wan needed him,_ and yet... "Afraid of what? Obi-Wan, you're not afraid of anything... _oh_." His eyes fell on the fresh blaster burn near where their hands lay, that familiar knot of guilt and hurt and disappointment starting to twist again in his stomach. "Of me? You're afraid of me?" he asked quietly, swallowing hard as he looked at the floor. "I...I guess I can understand that—"

"What? No, of course not!" Obi-Wan denied instantly, sitting up with a start. Wincing at the angry warning from his hip, he slouched almost as quickly. "Well, yes," he amended with a tilt of his head as he reconsidered, until he noticed the devastated look on former Padawan's face. Quickly, he twisted his wrists, altering their position so that he could now grasp Anakin's hands tightly in his own. " _No!_ No, that's not what I mean! Anakin."

Obi-Wan pulled at him with a quick jerk of his arms, groaning his vexation when Anakin continued to chew his lip, ignoring him. " _Anakin_. That is not what I mean. I have never, could never, be afraid of you. I told you, I want no other Jedi by my side, because I don't need them. But I...I _need_ you, Anakin Skywalker. You make me feel completely, _ridiculously_ safe under circumstances when, yes, I suppose others have questioned my sanity—and yours—but...but...I do." Obi-Wan offered him a warm, self-conscious smile. "I just do."

Anakin bit his lip again, this time to quiet the nervous pride that had always stirred in his heart when Obi-Wan spoke with such conviction about him. "Okay then, so..." he started, and brought their hands down between them, settling back on his heels again, slowly stroking his thumbs against Obi-Wan's palms. "If it's not me, then what are you afraid of? Talk to me, Obi-Wan. Tell me. We've already lived a life together, why can't we live another one?" he asked earnestly, tossing aside an errant fringe of curls to gaze up at his Master, his face full of youthful hope and anticipation. "An even better one?"

Obi-Wan took a moment, watching their hands, feeling the rough tickle of Anakin's thumbs against his skin. He released a shaky breath, wanting so much to find the right words this time, not knowing in the least how to express to Anakin how lost he felt right now. "Don't you think I wish I could just...say yes? But it's not that easy for me. I'm...I'm not like you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said honestly, then gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. "Not that you need me to tell you that, I suppose." He turned over their hands, smiling fondly as he traced over the calluses that marked Anakin's dedication, frowning at the cuts and scabs that testified to his sacrifices; Obi-Wan had been witness to them all. "Yes, we have lived a life together, as Master and Padawan, as warriors, partners, brothers, and the very best of friends, but for all that... _for all that,_ I...I don't know how to...to be _with_ you."

He inhaled deeply and tilted his head back, closing his eyes, trying to restrain the edge of hysteria that had crept into his voice. "I don't know how I am supposed to reconcile that this need I have, that goes far beyond simple attachment, isn't somehow a reflection of my _weakness_. It terrifies me, to open myself to another without reservation, to put so much faith in someone other than myself, and ignore a lifetime of being taught that I _shouldn't_." Averting his eyes, Obi-Wan tugged at Anakin's hands, pulling him up on his knees. He laced his fingers with Anakin's tightly, noting how easily they fit together, a small gesture that mirrored the strength and solidarity of his relationship with Anakin. Obi-Wan finally lifted his head, and with a squeeze of his hands, looked Anakin straight in the eye. "But it terrifies me more, to know...to _know_ that I can't be... _without_ you."

"Then don't be," Anakin whispered gently, "you don't have to be." With a quick kiss to one of his Master's hands, he let it go, pushing up from his knees to stand. He reached down, dragging a finger lazily across Obi-Wan's brow, brushing away that same stubborn lock that always fell in his Master's eyes. Anakin tugged at the other hand, wanting Obi-Wan to look at him. "You are not weak, and you are not a coward. You are a Jedi Master and a General of the Republic, the bravest, strongest, most honorable man I know, and a credit to an Order that takes you for granted."

Obi-Wan started to shake his head, protesting. "Oh, Anakin, that's not—"

"Shhh. It's my turn," Anakin interrupted softly, settling himself on the bunk, careful to avoid jostling Obi-Wan in any way. "It _is_ true. So maybe...maybe you haven't always followed the 'Traditional Jedi Way'," he said with only the slightest hint of a smirk, "but neither have I, and maybe that's what makes us so good together. Maybe that's what Qui-Gon wanted, I don't know."

Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully, pursing his lips. "Yes, well, he was always very cryptic. And not very traditional, either, I suppose..."

"Shhh." Anakin laid two fingers over Obi-Wan's mouth. "Still my turn," he asserted in response to that infamous arched eyebrow. When convinced of his Master's cooperation, he trailed his fingers down over the patch of whiskers just below Obi-Wan's lip, remembering just how they felt against his lips, soft and rough at the same time. Anakin licked his lips and cupped Obi-Wan's face in his hands, his thumbs stroking over the faint dirty smudges still evident on his Master's cheeks. "If it's needing to be with me that feels like a weakness, then let me...let me show you, Master. _Obi-Wan_. Let me show you how much being together makes us stronger," he murmured, soft and silky as he lowered his mouth to meet with Obi-Wan's in another tentative caress.

The kiss was brief, just another brush of lip against lip, but this time, as Anakin started to pull back, Obi-Wan found he didn't want it to stop, all he wanted was more, to have more, to feel more. Eyes closed, his lips sought out Anakin's once again, capturing them awkwardly until he parted his lips just enough for Anakin's to join with his full on. He didn't know if it was his lips or Anakin's that were chapped—maybe they both were—but it didn't matter, because nothing had ever felt so soft against his. Or so _right._

Anakin shuddered at the contact and snaked a hand up into Obi-Wan's hair, working his fingers through the damp strands. Obi-Wan smelled of scored carbon and musty Shyleran dust and days spent in the same tunics and Anakin didn't care because it was _familiar_. It was Obi-Wan, it was him...it was _them,_ together, right now. Anakin groaned softly and opened his mouth further, his fingers tightening their hold in Obi-Wan's hair, when he felt their tongues touch for the first time.

As Anakin's tongue slid warm and wet into his mouth, an involuntary shiver ran hot and cold through Obi-Wan. His fingers dug ruthlessly into the blanket on the bunk, a muffled moan sounding deep within him from the sensation of Anakin's slick tongue languidly lapping at the roof of his mouth. Overcome with a hunger he hardly recognized in himself, Obi-Wan cupped his hand behind Anakin's head, holding him closer still as he swirled his tongue around and past Anakin's, demanding to taste Anakin as he'd been tasted.

Anakin reveled in the ardor of Obi-Wan's kiss, happily surrendering himself to it. He had wanted this, needed this, for so long, wanted to know that he wasn't alone, that he wouldn't be alone, to show Obi-Wan what he meant to him, to know that _he_ meantsomething to Obi-Wan. Spurred on by this need, he released Obi-Wan's lips only long enough to change the angle, finding that Obi-Wan now met him more than half-way, their breaths commingling in the briefest of moments between increasingly urgent, messy, demanding kisses.

Despite the reciprocation, despite the desire that hung cloying and oppressive in the air around them, Anakin forced himself to slow down, stroking at the fine hairs along Obi-Wan's jaw. He drew the kiss out a little longer, sucking Obi-Wan's bottom lip between his before pulling back reluctantly. His eyes followed the trail of his fingertips down his Master's face, over his collarbone, coming to rest against his chest. Trying to catch his breath, he looked up at Obi-Wan, a shy, nervous smile touching his lips.

"Do you...do you see...can you feel it?" he asked hesitantly, shaking even as he felt the connection between them strengthen and solidify as never before. Anakin loved Obi-Wan with all he had, but if he couldn't feel it, or wouldn't, or if it wasn't enough... Anakin knew a part of him would die trying to accept it, but he would do it, for Obi-Wan. "M-Master?"

When Obi-Wan met Anakin's eyes, his breath caught in his chest at the need and hope he saw there. Wordlessly, he lifted a shaky hand to cover Anakin's, pressing both against his chest, just above the bruise the slug had left behind. His heart thrummed under their joined hands, beating wildly as he tried to reclaim some semblance of control over the emotions, the raw _need_ that churned within him. He had spoken the truth to Anakin: he didn't _want_ to need him. But Obi-Wan could no longer deny that he not only _needed_ Anakin, he _wanted_ Anakin. He never wanted to know a life _without_ Anakin. Somehow, inexplicably, it felt right, it felt natural, it felt wild and unrestrained and that was Anakin. Most of all, it felt _safe._ And that was Anakin, too.

With a quiet breath, Obi-Wan blinked slowly, nodding as an anxious smile broke out upon his lips, a hushed, reverent _"yes,"_ all he could manage right then as he opened himself fully to the Force, and, finally, to Anakin. He felt their bond shift and intensify, the frayed strands of discord dissolving, their renewed understanding, trust, and commitment to each other empowering Obi-Wan to a level of wholeness he had never known he had been lacking. When he heard Anakin gasp, he understood Anakin had felt it, too. "You...you were right," he breathed in astonishment, his smile broadening at the equally astonished look on Anakin's face. "But it's...it's not just strength, it's more than that...as if..."

"I know, I know," Anakin panted, his eyes wide and wild as the feeling swelled over and through him. "I feel it, too, like we're, I don't know, like we're..."

" _One,"_ they said in unison, staring at each other as the word reverberated in the silence that followed.

Obi-Wan caught the apprehensive look that suddenly haunted Anakin's face and reached out to him. "Anakin?" he asked; he knew that look. It was the one Anakin had adopted not long after he'd arrived at the Temple, one that masked his hurt or fear from taunting peers, stern Jedi instructors, and he thought, his Master. It had never fooled Obi-Wan. Probably because Obi-Wan had long-ago perfected the technique himself.

Anakin tentatively ran a finger over a triad of freckles on Obi-Wan's forearm before answering, his voice deceptively calm. "Are you...are you okay with that?"

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in surprise at the question. "I hardly think that is an issue up for debate anymore, is it?"

"That's not an answer, Obi-Wan." Anakin smiled sadly. "Please, I need to know. Because if you're not, if you're going to pull away again, or, or—" He shook his head, not wanting to give voice to the crippling fears taking hold in his heart at the thought of coming this far only to lose Obi-Wan in the end.

"Or change my mind?" Obi-Wan sighed and pressed his hand to his mouth, understanding. "I don't think I could, Anakin, because I'd first have to change my heart." He smiled fondly at the grateful look Anakin gave him then, emboldened by the strength and depth of their connection, wanting to assure him of his resolve. "I need you, Anakin. This feeling, this, this... _oneness_...yes, it does frighten me, it's unlike anything I've ever experienced, and...I don't want to stop feeling it." His eyes never leaving Anakin's, he lay one hand on the bunk, the other on Anakin's waist as he began to lie back, pulling the other man along with him. "I need you."

Anakin compliantly followed, wanting so much to believe this was finally happening, not some fevered dream or Sith-forsaken hallucination. "Are you sure?" he whispered, needing that assurance one more time.

Obi-Wan nodded, pushing up on one elbow to press a chaste kiss to Anakin's forehead. "Please," he whispered against Anakin's skin even as he lowered himself to the mattress, Anakin pressing his hands to either side of Obi-Wan's shoulders, his taut body hovering over Obi-Wan's. "I need you...I need to feel you. Here, now. _Please_."

Obi-Wan pulled Anakin into a slow kiss, opening his mouth to once again taste him, to feel the completeness in such a simple action. His hands wandered over Anakin's strong back, mindful of every abrasion he knew was there, knowing just where and when each scar that passed under his fingers had been earned. Reaching Anakin's waist, he skated his exploring hands around to trace over the ridges of muscle that outlined the younger man's abdomen. Anakin twitched from the sensation, finally gasping against Obi-Wan's mouth.

Obi-Wan looked apologetic, recalling the blow Anakin had taken just below his ribs. "Sore?" he asked, opening his hand to press soft and warm against Anakin's side.

"Mmmm." Anakin shook his unruly hair and bent closer, working his lips up through the line of soft whiskers along Obi-Wan's jaw to his ear . "Tickles," he mumbled there, before pulling back with a boyish grin.

Obi-Wan bit his lip, reaching up to brush back the shroud of curls that had fallen around Anakin's face. His fingers passed over the tacky ridge the bacta had made on Anakin's scalp and he frowned thoughtfully, reminded of the fear he'd had for Anakin back on Shylera, and the fallout it had caused.

Anakin nudged his forehead into Obi-Wan's open palm. "It's okay, it's only a cut, remember?"

Obi-Wan sighed and nodded, turning his head to kiss the inside of Anakin's wrist as his hands gently left Anakin's hair, palming his broad shoulders, feeling the latent strength in the straining arms that held the other man aloft. With fascination, he followed his thumbs over the curve of Anakin's biceps, then down along the bluish veins jutting out from his forearms, openly admiring Anakin's physicality. He passed his hands up the backsides of Anakin's arms, over roughened elbows and the gritty remnants of old bacta patches that had long since fallen off, until he reached Anakin's shoulders again, flushing slightly when he realized Anakin had been watching him. "I'm...I'm sorry," he apologized, averting his eyes in embarrassment.

"For what?" Anakin smiled, lifting one corner of his mouth. "There aren't any rules here, Obi-Wan. You can do whatever you want," he said softly, nuzzling his nose alongside Obi-Wan's. "Don't be sorry." He brought his lips against Obi-Wan's, opening his mouth to trace a quick vertical stripe across the seam with a flick of his tongue. "I like it," he growled playfully, smirking against Obi-Wan's mouth. "In fact, I think you should do it some more."

Obi-Wan flushed a deeper red, his heart racing in his chest once more. "I...I see. And...and what, encourage your vanity?" he retorted in a stuttered mumble against Anakin's mouth, swatting at his shoulders with little result. He managed to raise a mockingly disdainful eyebrow. "I d-doubt your ego needs any more stroking."

Anakin raised his own brows and laughed, pulling back just a little. "Maybe not. But you know..." He regarded his Master mischievously, then dove down to press his mouth to Obi-Wan's ear. "There's other parts of me that need stroking, Master," he drawled, grazing his teeth against the lobe.

Flinching away from the fiercely ticklish sensation on his ear, Obi-Wan gasped, wide-eyed, at the blatant proposition. _"S-So...uncivilized,"_ he stammered over Anakin's shoulder, even as his arms encircled Anakin's waist to draw him closer.

Anakin chuckled softly as he came down on his elbows, body still hovering over Obi-Wan's. "You like it," he boasted, lifting Obi-Wan's bangs off his forehead. He ran his thumb over the brownish streak of blood still there, and bowing down to kiss it. "You're a mess, you know that?" he said, tracing his thumbs over Obi-Wan's eyebrows, leaning in to leave another soft kiss.

Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered shut at the touch. "You are hardly in a position to judge," he scoffed, blindly reaching up to sink his hands into the younger man's matted hair. "I think perhaps one of those Shyleran reptavians could take up residence in here, and you'd never know."

"Oh yeah? You'd better check your beard, then, because I'm pretty sure _something's_ made a nest in there," Anakin teased, rifling his fingers through Obi-Wan's whiskers. "What's this, a twig? And a piece of grass? Oh, and looky here, it's either a chunk of chocolate, or a chunk of mud." He flicked the debris away with a touch of the Force. "Either way, pretty... _uncivilized,_ Master, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmm." Obi-Wan made a face, scowling as he rubbed at his own chin. "I do recall ordering you, at some point, to find a shower. As always, your interpretation of an order is..."

"Creative. Inventive. Imaginative," Anakin offered, mouthing the words against Obi-Wan's collarbone. "But, if you insist," he lifted his head, feigning a move to get up. "I can go find a fresher, if I'm just too, you know..." He mustered as innocent of a look as possible. "... _uncivilized_."

"You most certainly are," Obi-Wan agreed, distracted by the movement of Anakin's lips as he formed the words, feeling the heat swell again within him when that voice, low with just a lilt of a tease, sounded in his ears. He didn't know how Anakin did that, how seemingly innocent words became salacious innuendo when they came out of his mouth. He licked his lips and watched Anakin do the same, fueling his need, making his desire burn hotter still. He wanted more of it. More of Anakin.

"But I have been told I like you _uncivilized,_ and you," he growled possessively and reached between them, urging one of Anakin's legs over him to the other side of the bunk, "are in no way going anywhere." He cupped his hand behind Anakin's head, gently pulling him downward. "Come here," he entreated softly. "You're too far away. I want to...I need to...feel you. Closer."

Anakin's breath quickened. "I...I think that's an order I can follow," he agreed, bringing his mouth to Obi-Wan's as he closed the gap between them. Just as his body made contact with his Master's, he pulled out of the kiss with a gasp, arms shaking in protest from their prolonged effort. Panting, he flashed his eyes down to Obi-Wan's side worriedly. "Your hip?"

With a roll of his eyes, Obi-Wan lurched up to kiss Anakin again, with a quick mumble of "I don't care," against his lips, trying to coax Anakin back downward with him. He didn't care if it burned like the fires of Mustafar, he couldn't tolerate the distance between them any longer.

Still reluctant, Anakin's brow furrowed. He ached to be closer to Obi-Wan, to feel the strong, unrelenting firmness of his Master's body pressed against his own, but... "I...I don't want to hurt you. Are you sure?"

Smiling, Obi-Wan nodded encouragingly. "Stop worrying. I'll be fine." As Anakin hesitantly lowered his hips to straddle him, Obi-Wan slid his hands up from the younger man's hips, around his waist, and across his back, hands splayed to feel as much of Anakin's skin as possible. "So soft," he marveled under his breath, smiling at the surprisingly shy glance Anakin gave him. "And warm," he whispered, "always so warm."

"You know what they say, something about boys and deserts and...and... _whatever_ ," Anakin gave up with a quiet moan, arching back a little into Obi-Wan's strong hands. He was careful not to rest all his weight on Obi-Wan, letting his knees sink deeply into the mattress even as his thighs clenched around Obi-Wan's. For the first time, he allowed his eyes to roam freely, appreciatively, over the figure laid out before him. He had seen Obi-Wan many times, seen him, touched him, he knew this man's body expertly.

But not like this. This wasn't looking for damages, for injuries to be treated and healed, for imperfections. This was different, this was intimate and personal and _allowed_ , and Anakin saw only perfection in those imperfections. As he wove his hands though the fine line of hairs that ran up from the indent of Obi-Wan's navel, he marveled at the solid feel of toned muscle and smooth white skin that defined his Master's body. Reaching the slug bruise, he bent forward, bringing his lips to chastely kiss the mark, smiling up from under his curls when he felt Obi-Wan shiver beneath him.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan breathed softly, melting into the heat and pleasure of Anakin's touches. Here, now, there was no need for bacta or bandages. Here there was only Anakin, and Anakin, Obi-Wan now understood, was all that he had ever needed. With a press of his hands, he guided Anakin's body down more fully upon his, desperate to feel the heavy weight, the acute _presence,_ of Anakin there with him, on him, all around him. Obi-Wan closed his eyes with a shuddering breath, savoring the powerful sensation of arousal rushing to his groin from the contact. Keeping a hand low on Anakin's back, Obi-Wan tangled the other in his hair, bringing Anakin's head to rest on his shoulder. As he toyed with the curls, he drew random patterns on the small of Anakin's back, his fingertips dipping just below the waistband to pet at the velvety patch of hair at the base of Anakin's spine.

Obi-Wan's touches were like an electric charge to Anakin, sizzling through him like the lightning of a Yavinese thunderstorm. They made his nerves sing, his skin flush, his heart pound, and he never wanted Obi-Wan to stop. With a low rumble, he arched into the touch so tantalizingly low on his back, nuzzling his way into the crook of Obi-Wan's neck. Anakin indulged in Obi-Wan's familiar scent, one that reminded him of comfort, acceptance, home. One that was now thoroughly dominated by the powerful, heady flavors of masculinity, sweat, desire. The arousing scent shot straight to his cock and Anakin felt himself harden, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply again, drinking it in. With renewed vigor, he planted a line of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses up Obi-Wan's neck, under his chin, pausing to hover just above his ready mouth. _"Kriff,"_ he swore with a lusty reverence, eyes roving over his Master's face, taking in the disheveled hair, the flushed cheeks, the parted lips.

"Wh-what?" Breathing heavily, Obi-Wan found his attention diverted by the maddeningly slow crawl of a bead of sweat along Anakin's temple, imagining what it would taste like, to brazenly lick it right off his face. His breath caught and he blinked hard, unconsciously pressing his lips together firmly at such a licentious thought. Focus slowly returning, Obi-Wan dragged a deliberate thumb down over Anakin's reddened, swollen lower lip. "What is it?"

Anakin flicked at the digit with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth until he released it with a soft _pop,_ his desire only further provoked by the tiny, surprised gasp that came from the man beneath him. He groaned with want, mesmerized by the constantly changing colors of his Master's eyes, the way the pupils dilated and contracted. "You're so...so...I want to...I _have_ to kiss you again, Obi-Wan," Anakin confessed, his wide passion-filled eyes searching Obi-Wan's for permission. "Please."

The way Anakin had _looked_ at him just now...it was tender, it was needy...it was _feral,_ Obi-Wan recognized with an unrestrained shiver of excitement. "S-since when do you ask permission for anything?" he rasped, his mouth having gone dry, strangling the words somewhere in his throat. Surging forward, he raked his fingers up under the hair on Anakin's neck and met his mouth hungrily, tongue delving deep as he tugged Anakin back down with him.

The kiss was ferocious this time, messy and hot, each one nipping and biting at swollen lips while hands roamed possessively over dusty cheekbones and fingers snagged in tangled hair. Both caught up in the heated momentum, Anakin shifted slightly and Obi-Wan clutched urgently at his waist, bringing Anakin's weight to bear on his hip. Wide-eyed, Obi-Wan sounded a guttural moan against Anakin's lips, shunting aside the hot flicker of pain in favor of the knowledge that it was Anakin's erection, hard and unyielding, pressing against his side. Ignoring the burn, he arched up involuntarily, canting his hips just enough to press hard against Anakin, squeezing his eyes shut from the overwhelming sensation.

Anakin grunted in surprise, relishing the answering pressure against his cock, until the realization hit him and with an anguished cry, forced himself to break away. "S-sorry, M-Master..." he panted with alarm, quickly lifting his hips back and up, his body quivering from the effort. An apologetic, guilt-ridden expression darkened his face as he ran a trembling hand down Obi-Wan's side. "Don't..don't want to h-hurt you."

Obi-Wan shook his head, capturing Anakin's hand, trying to draw him back down. "You're...you're not," he insisted, even as his inflamed hip made his breaths come in short bursts. He wanted this, wanted Anakin, so much, and he didn't want to stop, not for some irritatingly inconvenient injury. Obi-Wan cursed himself, his hip, the wretched war, the entirety of the Republic, even the Force itself, for the interruption. Because if he were honest with himself, he knew that somewhere inside him still lurked that blasted _true Jedi_ shouting at him to honor the Code, and if given the chance to stop, he very well _might._ _That_ was not something he was willing to risk; for once, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not about to let himself get in his own way. "Come here, I'm fine," he cajoled, tugging at Anakin, until they were face-to-face again.

Anakin shook his head knowingly, completely unconvinced by his Master's attempts at bravado. "Liar," he chastised, hot and soft against Obi-Wan's cheek. He shifted his legs and brought one of his Master's thighs between his, sliding a knee up to settle lightly against Obi-Wan's cock, letting the bulk of his weight descend slowly upon his Master's other hip. Raising an eyebrow, he flashed a naughty grin. "Better?" he asked, nibbling and biting his way down Obi-Wan's neck.

Obi-Wan pulled at the crook of Anakin's knee so that it dug in harder, increasing the friction with a slow rock of his hips. "Yes...much... _ahh_..." he moaned, as Anakin's mouth reached a nipple, lapping a wet tongue back and forth over it before drawing it between his lips. Mouth agape, Obi-Wan threw his head back, his hands scrabbling across the taut skin of Anakin's back, over the sharp angles of jutting shoulder blades and the smooth contours of flexing muscles. Daring a glance down, he bit back another moan as he watched Anakin's mouth on him, sucking, licking, finally crying out at the teasing bite.

Smiling against the warm, moist skin, Anakin blew a cool breath over the sensitive nub, pleased at the answering shiver from the man beneath him. He committed every reaction, each sigh and gasp and moan, to memory, completely enthralled and amazed by the fact that _he_ was the one responsible for it. _He_ was the one allowed to touch, kiss, _love_ Obi-Wan, no one else. It was powerful, and it was humbling. Anakin nuzzled his way through the faintly auburn thatch of hair on Obi-Wan's chest, glancing up questioningly when Obi-Wan called his name softly. "Everything okay?"

Taking hold of his waist, Obi-Wan slid Anakin off him, on to his back, and carefully rolled himself on his right side, hitching himself close enough to press the length of his body alongside Anakin's. "Stop worrying. You're worse than a crèchemaster, I swear," Obi-Wan admonished softly. Propped up on an elbow, he watched, silent, as his fingertip traced the path of that impossibly roguish scar that crossed over Anakin's eye. Cupping his hand just behind the younger man's ear, Obi-Wan drew him into soft but no less demanding kiss, thoroughly exploring every corner of Anakin's mouth before releasing him with a harsh, ragged breath.

" _Master,"_ Anakin whined softly, reaching out for Obi-Wan, clawing to bring him back, hungry for more. More of _that_. With Obi-Wan. Right _now_. "Don't...don't stop...more," he begged against Obi-Wan's mouth as he found it once again.

" _So demanding,"_ Obi-Wan growled into the kiss, biting and nipping at Anakin's lips from the ferocity of the need and desire continuing to build between them. Lungs searing from the lack of oxygen, pulse pounding a driving, lust-laden rhythm in his ears, he grabbed a handful of Anakin's curls, gasping for breath when Anakin responded in kind, yanking hard at Obi-Wan's hair to bring him closer, tongues sliding, teeth scraping, both fighting to control it, both losing themselves to it.

As they broke apart, both breathless and panting, Obi-Wan found himself taken aback by the raw intensity they had brought to a single kiss, a bolt of pure wonder and trepidation coursing through him in time to the staccato beat of his heart, threatening to burst out of his chest. It was still so new, so...incomprehensible, what was actually happening between them. Right here, right _now_.

Obi-Wan stole a long look at Anakin, his former Padawan, his partner, best friend...now... _lover?_ , with his brilliant blue eyes that could steal your soul and halo of untamed curls that captured the light in such a way that gave Anakin the ethereal glow of an avenging angel on the battlefield. It stunned him, awed him, really, to believe that this man, a man he had known most of his life, a man he had admired and respected and—Obi-Wan could finally admit this to himself—loved for so long, was... _his._

A deep, indescribable yearning rose up within Obi-Wan when he took in the sight in front of him, from the ripple of straining abdominal muscles, to the outline of a defined chest heaving for breaths, over the curve of wet shiny lips. Lips that curled from a curious smile into a downright smirk, Obi-Wan blanched inwardly, obviously having taken notice of his Master's less than discreet appraisal of him.

Anakin wasn't blind to his appeal; he was used to the stares of other beings, and he had to admit it had its advantages and he'd probably used every last one of them, but this wasn't some Hapan princess or tribal chieftain to be charmed out of vital information with a carefully placed wink and a pout. This was Obi-Wan. This _mattered._ To have _Obi-Wan_ look at him like that... Anakin sucked in his bottom lip, ducking his head modestly under the intense scrutiny. "See something you like there?" he asked huskily through a thick veil of dark lashes.

Reddening and swallowing hard, rendered speechless yet again by that _tone_ of Anakin's, so kriffing _suggestive_ it should be outlawed, Obi-Wan nodded mutely, hesitantly fingering a lock of hair before tucking behind Anakin's ear. "I want...to look...at you, Anakin," he confessed, as he used two fingers to push him back down on to the mattress. Licking his lips, Obi-Wan caressed Anakin's cheek affectionately, brushing back and forth over the familiar birthmark there, unable to draw his eyes away from the other man's face. "Will you...will you allow me that?"


	4. Part IV

A nervous flutter took flight in Anakin's stomach at the tender, hesitant sincerity in Obi-Wan's voice. With a shy smile, he grasped Obi-Wan's fingers and pressed them to his lips. "I told you, you can do whatever you want, remember?" Settling back on the mattress, he folded one arm behind his head. "You need a haircut," he murmured, casually brushing back Obi-Wan's bangs with his other hand. "Might get kind of hard to, uh, see, hmm?" he teased softly, repeatedly letting the strands slip through his fingers.

Resting his chin on Anakin's shoulder, Obi-Wan chuckled a soft _'hmm'_ of his own as two fingers followed a line down the younger man's chin, scratching through the light patchy stubble to his pronounced voice box. Anakin swallowed nervously, and Obi-Wan watched with fascination as it bobbed, his fingers separating as they traced around either side of it. Closing his eyes with a pleasured sigh, Anakin arched his head back invitingly, and unable to resist the offer, Obi-Wan followed the path of his fingers around it with his tongue, mouthing it delicately, tasting the dried lines of salty sweat and earthy musk that had settled there. With feather-light kisses, his mouth worked its way down to the hollow of the other man's neck, pausing to breathe in the ever-familiar fragrance that marked Anakin; it was often sweaty, definitely _uncivilized_ at the moment, but always, always spiced with all the warm flavors of the desert Obi-Wan hoped Anakin would never outgrow.

With a lap of his tongue into the hollow, Obi-Wan drew back a little, skimming his fingers along the protruding lines of Anakin's collarbone, hesitating over healing abrasions, old scars, faint blemishes he'd never had the opportunity to study before. Marveling at the chiseled planes of Anakin's chest as they passed under his open palm, he skated slow circles around one darkened nipple with a single, inquisitive, teasing finger. Encouraged by the soft whimper that escaped from Anakin, Obi-Wan rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as the other man arched up, then closed his mouth around the sensitized skin, sucking, until he was rewarded with a choked off curse from Anakin.

"Language, Anakin," he couldn't help but tease, openly laughing against warm skin when the other man simply groaned and relaxed back down on the bunk. Obi-Wan opened his palm again, sliding it slowly and deliberately down the center of Anakin's chest, over the channel of his sternum, past his ribs, and dragged his fingers over and around the deep outlines of muscle on his stomach, smiling to himself as the younger man twitched under Obi-Wan's touch.

Continuing unhindered in his visual and tactile campaign, Obi-Wan's fingers toyed with the very light line of hair that began just above the other man's navel, while his eyes followed its path downward until it disappeared enticingly under the loose waistband, Anakin's obvious erection leaving little doubt as to where it ended. Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, absorbing and savoring the illicit image suddenly invading his thoughts.

With a swirl of his tongue around Anakin's navel, Obi-Wan shifted his gaze back up to Anakin's face, taking in each breathless gasp, each bite of his lip, each careless toss of his head that brought a cascade of hair across his face, as he mouthed his way back up Anakin's writhing torso. Resting his chin on the younger man's chest again, Obi-Wan gently pried white teeth away from moist lip, caressing the indented flesh with the pad of his thumb.

Anakin cracked open his eyes with a slow, satisfied grin. "Hey," he said lazily, bunting his lips against Obi-Wan's thumb. He unfolded his arm from behind his head and settled it on his Master's shoulder, tracing idly around the now pinkish blaster burn, one corner of his mouth curving up with a saucy tilt. "Done _looking_?" he said in a suggestive drawl, not taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan nodded, heart racing from Anakin's all-consuming gaze that was just this side of a leer. "For now," he divulged, his voice low and gravelly. He flicked his eyes down, following the straying finger on his shoulder, and inhaled sharply. "However," Obi-Wan gave Anakin a heated, pointed look as he skimmed his hand lightly across the younger man's chest, around his other nipple, and down his side, "I do reserve the right to return at any time."

"The _right_ , huh?" Anakin raised an eyebrow, stroking a finger along Obi-Wan's jaw. "I don't know, sounds kind of possessive, Master."

Obi-Wan responded with an answering arch of his brow. "Hmm, does it?" He sniffed dismissively. "Well, I guess _you_ would be the authority on that here" he chided airily with a poke to Anakin's chest. "So do tell me, former Padawan of _mine_ , does being your Master gain me no privilege? Only death-defying rescues and suicidal piloting?"

"Hey!" Anakin grasped Obi-Wan's prodding fingertip and narrowed his eyes. "My piloting's not suicidal. It's..." Tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he searched for the word, he flashed a cocksure grin down at Obi-Wan as it came to him. " _Innovative_. Master Tiin once said he's never seen anything like it," Anakin informed him proudly, running his hands across Obi-Wan's shoulders and down his back, scratching lightly with his nails on his way up.

"Mmm," Obi-Wan turned to rest his cheek on Anakin's shoulder, melting with satisfaction when the younger man reached a spot between his shoulder blades. "I don't think that was necessarily a compliment, Anakin," he mumbled low against his chest, intentionally baiting a reaction from his pride-afflicted partner. Obi-Wan craned his neck to gaze up at the younger man, eyes twinkling in amused anticipation.

"Oh, that's _it_ ," Anakin bucked up and growled, eyes blazing, breath huffing in outrage even knowing full well he'd been played. "You want privilege, Obi-Wan?" he demanded and pulled at the other man's shoulders, urging him up. "Okay, then." Without warning, Anakin fell back, instantly passive, gently settling his Master's weight more fully upon him. "I'll give you privilege," he whispered solicitously, softening his gaze as he raked his fingers up through the hair at Obi-Wan's nape, massaging the cords in his neck.

Undaunted by Anakin's mercurial moods, Obi-Wan nevertheless felt like he _had_ just been privileged to one of his former Padawan's _innovative_ piloting maneuvers; he felt unsettled, unbalanced, and undeniably exhilarated. He couldn't help but be struck by the ferocity of Anakin's belief in his skills, the way his eyes burned and his face glowered, exuding a righteousness that was nearly impossible to deny. On anyone else, it might have been unattractive. On Anakin, it was positively magnetic.

Obi-Wan knew Anakin had an ego, definitely, but it had always been about his gifts, his abilities, what he could do and how he did it better than anyone else. He knew Anakin was aware of other beings' attraction to him—he was still banned from Hapan airspace, after all—but to his credit, he had never seemed to place any value on his aesthetic qualities. When Anakin had chosen dark brown and black for his tunics, Mace had railed at Obi-Wan about how it was a blatant ego trip, a way to flatter and bring attention to himself, unbecoming of a Jedi. With considerable finesse, Obi-Wan had managed to convince Mace that it was a practical choice; being from a desert world, Anakin was often chilled and the darker colors retained more heat.

Privately, however, Obi-Wan tended to believe it was more of a subconscious defense mechanism, the darker colors exuding power and strength, two things a former slave like Anakin would never wish to relinquish again, while also casting deep shadows in which to conceal flaws from others, whether they be literal rips and tears or much more troublesome emotions and attachments. That they did, indeed, make him more attractive was an unintended...benefit. The leather, well... Obi-Wan had to concede that may have been a more conscious choice. Not that he had ever really complained.

Obi-Wan dipped his head forward, groaning as Anakin's talented fingers eased away knots Obi-Wan hadn't even been aware of. "Now that... _that's_ a privilege," he sighed blissfully and lifted his head, blinking at Anakin through pleasure-glazed eyes. Murmuring his gratitude, Obi-Wan cupped Anakin's face and leaned up into a lingering kiss, gentle and unhurried. Anakin parted his lips, seeking entry, and Obi-Wan yielded to him, allowing Anakin to draw his Master's tongue into his mouth, languidly sliding alongside the other, deliberately hot, wet and messy.

As he withdrew, Obi-Wan slowly wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, awestruck by the sinfully sensual image Anakin evoked in this moment, all moist, swollen lips that caught the light and dark, needy eyes that swallowed it. Entranced, he tilted his head in wonderment, tracing his forefinger through the shiny wetness on Anakin's lips. _"Beautiful,"_ he whispered with a tender adoration, a breathy invocation that escaped his mouth before even being given conscious thought.

"W-what?" Explicitly sexual remarks from strangers, revoltingly base propositions from dignitaries, Anakin could handle those, with a nudge of the Force or a flick of his lightsaber, if necessary. Having Obi-Wan just look him over earlier—that was thrilling, exciting, kind of naughty, even. An uncharacteristic blush crept up Anakin's face. Having Obi-Wan actually _say_ such a personal, subjective thing—and like _that—_ it was surreal, a fantasy. "N-not really," he stammered, not knowing how he was supposed to answer.

"Yes, Anakin, you _are,"_ Obi-Wan replied emphatically as he scanned his face, taking a moment to pet at his cheek endearingly. With a self-conscious smile, he let out a long, resigned sigh. "And..." He rolled back on to his side, averting his eyes as he rubbed lightly at Anakin's hipbone. "I don't know why someone like you would want..." _This_ , he was surprised to find himself despairing, casting a look down over his weary, war-torn body, over bruises and bacta patches and bloodied welts, suddenly and acutely aware of his...mediocrity.

Obi-Wan had never indulged in any kind of personal vanity; he had been more than content with the physical performance of his body, the strength and endurance it provided him, even finding tactical advantage in his shorter stature and rather ordinary appearance in undercover operations. He was what the Force had made him. But so was Anakin, and the Force had made him... _magnificent._ Not since that day in the Council's chambers, when he stood helpless and mortified listening to Qui-Gon list 'capable' as his greatest attribute, had Obi-Wan felt so painfully inadequate. Never before had he felt so self-conscious, so _unremarkable_.

"The Force _radiates_ from within you, Anakin, I can see it," he smiled valiantly at Anakin, skating a wavering hand over the other man's hip and up his side to press flat and warm above his heart. "I can _feel_ it, drawing life to you unlike anything else I have ever witnessed. You are the Chosen One. I'm just...me. Why would you ever want—"

"Don't, Obi-Wan," Anakin hushed with a shake of his head, covering Obi-Wan's mouth with a hand. "Don't say that," he pleaded softly, shifting on to his side and pulling his Master into a series of kisses, each one hotter, needier, more desperate than the last, infused with all his desire and devotion for this man. Breathless, Anakin rested his forehead against Obi-Wan's, stroking at his cheek in awed adoration. "There's only ever been you, don't you get it?"

With a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, leaning in to the gentle touch with the faintest of smiles. He knew Anakin loved him, believed it in his heart, felt it in the way Force now sang across their bond in contented harmony. It was one thing to accept that Anakin could love him; they had spent over a decade living, fighting, sometimes barely surviving, together, that even for all of Obi-Wan's reticence and difficulty surrendering to Anakin's certain point of view, it hadn't been too great of a leap to make.

It was another thing entirely to be comfortable believing that someone as impassioned and vibrant and _alive_ as Anakin Skywalker could truly desire him, Obi-Wan Kenobi, when Anakin could effortlessly hold the galaxy in the palm of his hand with just a smile if he chose to. "How can you say that?" he asked quietly, instantly hating himself for asking the question, for needing the validation to squelch the insidious insecurities prickling under his skin.

"How can I say that?" Anakin repeated incredulously, finding himself equally frustrated and amused by his Master's glaring, self-effacing blind spot when it came to himself. Uncomfortable with praise, humble to a fault, Anakin knew no one was a harder, more demanding and exacting master than Obi-Wan was on himself. Still astounded, Anakin just shook his head. "Obi-Wan...Force, you really, really don't know, do you?" He threw back his head, his manic laugh ringing out loudly in the confines of the small room.

"Apparently not?" Obi-Wan scowled, perturbed, even as Anakin brushed his lips against his, still chuckling. He had forgotten how infuriatingly smug Anakin could be when he thought he had information his Master did not; the fact that Anakin had insinuated he was holding information about _him_ was untenable. Besieged by crippling doubts and increasingly distressed by the fact that Anakin had not yet answered his question, he lowered his eyes and pursed his mouth, steeling himself. "Just...just tell me, Anakin."

"Oh, Master. For such a smart man..." Cradling his Master's face in his hands, Anakin swept his thumbs over the deep lines creasing Obi-Wan's brow, smoothing away the troubled frown that had left deep furrows in his beard, his own endearing smile dissolving into a devilish smirk. "I can say that," he started slowly, waiting for his painfully unaware Master to look at him, "because of the way you drive me _crazy_ just walking across a room at a peace conference with this confident swagger you don't even know you have. I can say that because of the way I break into a sweat watching you pull off your cloak in that _agonizingly_ slow way of yours, like it's some kind of...of virtuous striptease, and because of the way my stomach does backflips when I hear the sound your lightsaber makes when it _slaps_ against your thigh. I can say that because of the irritating way you use up all the hot water and still I don't care because I know you're in there wet and naked and _I just like imagining it,"_ he confessed in a staged whisper, winking as the salacious words rolled off his tongue.

"A-Anakin!" Obi-Wan choked out, staring at him in shock, mouth continuing to move but uttering no sound. There had been others over the years for Obi-Wan, quick, impersonal entanglements to relieve tension or base lust, but never once had he mistaken those encounters for the kind of consuming desire Anakin spoke of. What he was saying about Obi-Wan now was lewd, beyond explicit, _completely_ ridiculous...and it sent an aching surge of arousal through him. Suppressing a betraying moan, Obi-Wan blushed furiously at the idea of Anakin thinking about him like that, _imagining_ him naked... "I...I do not..." he protested hotly, trying for affronted, but barely managing to hold on to flustered, as his voice broke, "... _swagger._ "

"Yes, you do. Now shush, there's more," Anakin interrupted with a wicked grin, leaning in to drag the tip of his tongue up and around the curve of Obi-Wan's ear. "You asked, I'm telling, you're listening," he ordered hot and insistent in the other man's ear, lowering his voice further, tone dirty and suggestive and irresistible. "I can say that because of all the times I've had to rush back to my room after sparring with you, _hard as kriffing durasteel_ , because I'd spent the last hour staring at the sweat sliding down your chest as you prowl around me, taunting me, throwing me to the mat, and the only thing I can smell is you all over me as I'm _getting myself off_ ," he hissed, grazing his teeth against the rounded lobe, sucking it wetly into his mouth.

"I...you...you _what_?" Obi-Wan's voice broke high on the last word as Anakin bit down on his ear, sending waves of pained pleasure through him. His eyes squeezed shut as, unbidden, images of some of their more _spirited_ matches as of late, the crackling tension, the heated exchanges, flashed behind his closed lids. He saw Anakin then taking himself in hand, still drenched in sweat as he stroked long and slow over his length... Obi-Wan shuddered visibly, his stomach muscles clenching tightly, this time unable to control the low sound of uninhibited need that rumbled out of him.

Anakin smirked at the sound, nodding smugly. "Oh, it's true. Remember just before we deployed for Shylera? You kicked my ass...pinned me to the floor...yelled at me to focus?" he prompted, chuckling triumphantly when he felt Obi-Wan stiffen below him, imagining the scandalized expression on his face, knowing his Master remembered that session as well. " _Oh yeah._ All I could think about was you— _all_ the way to Shylera, Master," he gloated, nosing his way back along Obi-Wan's cheek, drawing him into a flirty, playful, nipping kiss.

Wide-eyed and unable to temper the inflamed desire storming through him, Obi-Wan let out a soft, almost pained whine as his mouth fell slack against the younger man's, succumbing to the parade of erotic and illicit images Anakin's confessions had conjured. _"A-Anakin,"_ he stammered helplessly as he pulled away, breath ragged, trying grasp any tendril of focus he could summon as his eyes darted wildly over the younger man's face.

Anakin sighed, a twinge of frustration welling up within him. "No, wait. _Wait._ Before you say anything, let me finish, okay?" he pleaded, turning serious as he placed his palm over Obi-Wan's heart, absorbing the thundering rhythm as he stared with intense conviction into those oft-troubled, ever-changing blue-green-gray eyes. "I...I want you to understand...you _have_ to understand..." he licked his lips, letting out a shaky breath. "That I can say all of this because _I love you_ , and there's only you, Obi-Wan, there will only ever be you," he promised adamantly. With a hint of nervous hesitation, Anakin took hold of Obi-Wan's hand, gliding it slowly down between them, hovering just above the taut laces of his own leggings. His eyes bored into Obi-Wan's, reflecting the buildup of intense desire frantically seeking release. "I...I _want_ only you, okay?"

Beyond overwhelmed, Obi-Wan's words failed him and he simply nodded. Holding his breath, he followed the path of their hands, swallowing hard as his eyes flicked between Anakin's straining erection and the open, trusting, wanting, _loving_ reflection in Anakin's eyes. _I love you...there will only ever be you...I want only you..._ Acting on pure instinct and abandoning any hint of prudence or care, Obi-Wan undauntedly flung himself wide open to the Force, to that familiar, _welcome,_ fiery brilliance that was Anakin, and _pulled_ it to him, enveloping Anakin's Force-Signature with his own until they were one again, searching desperately for some kind of answer, some sort of assurance that this, _he,_ was what Anakin truly wanted. "Are you certain?" he whispered hoarsely, his penetrating stare mirroring his unrelenting hold on their merged signatures. "Are you certain this is what you..what you want?"

Anakin's eyes locked on Obi-Wan's, staring open-mouthed at the almost suffocating intrusion of Obi-Wan's Force-Signature into his, the way the other man's very essence scoured through him, demanding passage, igniting every midichlorian he touched along the way. It was an _exquisite_ torture, to feel so consumed, so _needed,_ by someone he loved and desired more than anything in the galaxy.Trembling, Anakin covered Obi-Wan's hand with his own, pressing both down against his length, biting his lip, eyes fluttering when his cock throbbed under the pressure. "You're all I've _ever_ wanted, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I want _you,_ " Anakin swore effusively, his voice tight, rough, demanding. Dragging his lusty gaze up back up to Obi-Wan, he arched his hips up pointedly, growling low in his throat. "I know you're the Negotiator and all, but can we, uh, have less talking and maybe more, uh, action now?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened, startled by Anakin's boldness, a violent shiver racing up from his hand and all the way through him as Anakin's searing, palpable desire, rampant and wild, saturated their bond, permeating their entwined signatures, until Obi-Wan no longer had the ability, nor the will, to separate its origin. It was Anakin's, it was Obi-Wan's, it was in them, it _was_ them.

Eyes darkening and sparking with a predatory gleam, trying to hide a pleased, self-satisfied smile, Obi-Wan shook his head, sighing even as he daringly palmed the length of Anakin's cock over the loose fabric of his leggings. "Always so impatient," he scolded with a mocking lift of his eyebrow. "Perhaps I should just...stop?" Obi-Wan insinuated drolly, slowing his hand to a torturous crawl, fingers barely skimming along the outline of the younger man's erection.

Anakin's hand shot up in a flash, closing around his Master's wrist. "N-no. D-don't you dare," he threatened, the authority in his voice slipping just a little to betray his barely concealed anxiety and desperation. "Please, Master, no more teasing," he begged, gliding the top of his foot under Obi-Wan's ankle, hooking his calf around his Master's and entangling their legs with a slow, sliding movement that brought them even closer. "Not now, not after all this. Please, I just...I want you." Relaxing his grip, he folded his fingers with Obi-Wan's, staring at his Master with impossibly dark, knowing eyes. "I...I think you want this, too," he said softly, beginning a slow drag of their joined hands over his cock. "Don't stop?"

Nudging away Anakin's hand, Obi-Wan brought trembling fingers to the laces on Anakin's leggings. "You are singularly difficult to resist when you do that, you know," he chastised, the words rattling low in his throat as he drew a single finger through the ties, loosening them just enough to reveal a hint of blond beckoning from just below the waistband. Captivated by the sight, by the awareness that this was _Anakin_ , Obi-Wan shakily pushed aside the fold of fabric, following the enticing 'v' of muscle with his fingers downward until they brushed against the coarse gathering of curls just under the flap.

He bit his lip, watching with a thrill of disbelief as his hand slipped in further, tentatively encircling the smooth, hot, hardness of Anakin's arousal. With a slight downward press, Obi-Wan slid his palm up the shaft, tracing exploring fingers around and over the head with the lightest of touches, sucking in a sharp breath when Anakin pushed up against his hand with a grunted sigh and tightened his fingers in Obi-Wan's hair.

The possessive, almost painful hold Anakin had on him compelled Obi-Wan to glance up, immediately lured into the depths of hungry lust burning in the younger man's eyes, burning _for him_. Empowered by the needy moans and shallow thrusts Anakin was making into his hand, Obi-Wan crushed his lips against Anakin's in a bruising, owning kiss, releasing a torrent of carnal passion he had thus far refused to acknowledge in himself, unwilling, unable to keep it buried behind a veil of propriety that no longer existed between the two of them.

Parting his lips, Anakin willingly lost himself in the raw emotion emanating from Obi-Wan, allowing passage to his Master's questing tongue, across his lips, against his teeth, along his tongue, strangling a moan as the heel of Obi-Wan's hand found his balls and pressed _just right_. "O-Obi-Wan, _kriff_ yes," he cursed, breaking away from his mouth with a loud hiss. "Please," he mumbled breathlessly into Obi-Wan's neck as he slid a hand up between them, snuffling through the whiskers along his jaw, "can I...can I touch, too?"

"As much as I am enjoying this, _ahhh—_ " Obi-Wan moaned softly and arched his neck, encouraging Anakin to the other side of his jaw, "this new-found deference of yours—" Thoroughly distracted now by roving lips and the presence of that very solicitous hand, Obi-Wan lapsed into an erratic rhythm of strokes up and down Anakin's length. "Y-you can do...whatever...you want," he sputtered, canting his hips up to trap both their hands firmly between them. "There...there aren't any rules..." he managed to banter between pleasured gasps, beginning a slow grind against Anakin's large open palm with a decidedly cheeky grin. _"Remember?"_

"Gl-glad you're finally listening," Anakin groaned with relief, nibbling along a tendon in Obi-Wan's neck, unbelievably turned on by his usually reticent, always-in-control Master's surprisingly _uncivilized_ behavior. Relishing the unrelenting pressure against his hand, knowing that, _kriff,_ it was _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ making such a brazen suggestion, he licked a long stripe up the column of Obi-Wan's throat, feasting on a spot just to the right his chin. Wanting more access, a better angle, Anakin twisted his wrist and dragged his fingers up along the other man's leggings to free his hand, trembling when he realized that the rough weave beneath his fingers had somehow given way to the sinfully soft glide of skin on skin.

Risking a downward glance, Anakin froze, choking back an involuntary moan. Just beyond where his hand lay warm and promising against pale skin, the already-loosened ties of Obi-Wan's leggings had come undone completely, separating the panels enough for Anakin to take in the full, glorious view of Obi-Wan for the first time. _"Master_ ," he rasped with near reverence as he tentatively folded his long fingers around Obi-Wan's length, beginning with slow experimental touches, eager to learn what Obi-Wan liked, growing bolder and more confident as he tightened his grip on the downstroke and brushed it loose and light on the up. Anakin trailed his fingertips over the veins on the underside and circled his thumb through the wetness gathering on the tip, delighting in the surprised gasp from Obi-Wan. "Like that?" he asked with a smug, suggestive lilt, circling his thumb again as he squeezed the shaft gently.

" _Yes,"_ Obi-Wan growled, retaliating by tightening his grip around Anakin's cock as he slid his hand almost painfully down its length, pausing to pet at the soft skin at the base, his fingers brushing teasingly lower until the younger man cried out and jerked his hips. "Like that?" he asked just as smugly, bringing his hand back up the shaft even as he sought Anakin's touch once again with another upward press.

Anakin nodded wordlessly, rocking into Obi-Wan's hand as urgently as his Master rocked into his, tight, loose, fast, slow, the touches and sensations all melting together. "Need you, need more," he grunted feverishly against Obi-Wan's mouth before devouring him in another scorching exchange of lips and tongues and teeth.

Obi-Wan groaned in agreement and shifted beneath him, pulling and clawing at Anakin until he could slip his hands under the waistband of his leggings, rucking them down lower over his hips. Splaying his hands over Anakin's exposed backside, Obi-Wan eagerly beckoned Anakin down to him, both men crying out against the other's lips from the blissfully excruciating stimulation as their groins came into alignment. Breath harsh in their lungs, they rested their foreheads together and began a slow rhythm between them, bared length slipping, sliding, then thrusting mercilessly against bared length, each releasing soft grunts and muffled curses as the friction between their bodies increased unbearably.

" _Ana-nughhhh"_ Obi-Wan called out unintelligibly, clenching Anakin's hips as his eyes rolled up at a particularly wicked thrust between them. "W-wait," he gasped, trying to catch his breath as one hand stole up to push at the younger man's shoulder, frantically seeking some kind of reprieve from the overwhelming onslaught of sensation they had unleashed against each other. "You need to...need to stop," he pleaded, blinking hard and gulping for air.

At the push on his shoulder, Anakin instantly stilled himself, shifting his weight to his knees as he rested his forehead on Obi-Wan's chest, taking deep drags of air. "R-right, your hip, I...I forgot," he smiled sheepishly against the warm skin, lips tickled by the soft hairs there. "You...it...it just feels so... _mmm_..." he mumbled as he pressed a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the center of Obi-Wan's chest in apology. "I should have been more careful—"

"No, no," Obi-Wan panted as he shook his head, affectionately raking his fingers through the spill of curls on his chest and up into Anakin's hair. "I'm fine. No, really, I am," he insisted when Anakin lifted his head, petting the younger man's cheek in response to the skeptical expression on his face. "It's just that, I'm not quite in my b-best form right now," he sighed self-consciously, "and if you...if you don't stop... _that_...I'm going to..." he inclined his head down between them, giving Anakin a very pointed look.

Understanding, and amused by his Master's perceived predicament, Anakin smirked and nuzzled his cheek against Obi-Wan's. "Uh huh...and this is a bad thing, why?" he asked with a heated growl against his ear, sliding his cock along Obi-Wan's again with a sly grin. "I don't know, right now you look like you're in pretty good form to me, Master."

"S-stop that!" Obi-Wan protested with a strangled moan, unable to stop himself as his hips bucked up with an answering shameless grind of his cock against Anakin's. "You're absolutely _incorrigible_ ," he reprimanded with a throaty laugh, forcibly holding Anakin aloft when his former Padawan tried to lower his hips against his once again. "It's a bad thing because...because..." Obi-Wan looked away, cursing under his breath when he felt the blush warming his face again. _"Force,"_ he grumbled as he blew out a sharp, frustrated breath.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had negotiated far more difficult and complex situations than this, and yet he found himself fumbling for the simplest of words, assailed by an untimely sense of modesty he thought he'd left behind somewhere between his discarded laces and Anakin's meandering hands. "Rutting against each other like a couple of nerfs in heat—while, er, undoubtedly effective—is not what I had in mind for...for..." Obi-Wan cleared his throat nervously. "Our..first...time together," he revealed softly, focusing intently on the thumb petting slow circles along an orangy dust-smudged collarbone.

"You...you've thought about this?" Anakin's voice cracked, his heart and mind racing from the implications of what Obi-Wan was saying, that what he wanted with Anakin was more than a rushed convenience, that being with Anakin meant something to him beyond meeting a biological need or achieving some kind of meaningless, fleeting satisfaction. Inundated by an ardent wave of profound gratification and happiness, Anakin took in a shaky breath and pressed his face into Obi-Wan's outstretched arm, brushing his lips over a lonely mole there. "So...Master Kenobi, um, what _did_ you have in mind?"

Obi-Wan turned his face to Anakin's, cupping his hand against the back of his head to draw him closer. In truth, he had never consciously thought about this moment with Anakin—the _true Jedi_ in him would never have envisioned a reason to, much less any kind of scenario—about what he would want, and _need_ , for the first time he intimately shared all of himself with Anakin. A simple brush along their bond and the answering enveloping warmth confirmed his unwavering belief that any sort of quick sordid release between them would be woefully unfulfilling at best, and absolutely unworthy of the depth of trust and love they had spent a lifetime building together. Obi-Wan wanted to give Anakin everything of himself he had so selfishly and fearfully been withholding for too long; Anakin deserved that. They both did.

Threading his fingers through the curls on Anakin's neck, a small, shy smile ghosted his lips before he looked up into the younger man's deep blue eyes. "I want...you, Anakin." Obi-Wan swallowed the lump in his throat, an anxious breath catching in his chest as he lifted Anakin's hand, pressing it to his lips as he laced their fingers together. "I want you..." he repeated in a ragged near-whisper, guiding their hands down between them, folding their fingers around both their cocks, "...inside me." Shaking slightly, he gently contracted their hands and gazed at Anakin with devout, heartfelt longing. "Please."


	5. Part V

**_"Peace, in the struggle to find peace.  Comfort, on the way to comfort._ "** ~ _Fumbling Towards Ecstasy_ , Sarah McLachlan  
  
 

"M-Master?" Anakin's voice broke with emotion and he gulped, blinking incredulously as a shiver of thrill passed through him with the realization of what Obi-Wan was asking of him. "I...I can't believe you...you want..." With a tremulous smile, he bit his lip, closing his eyes briefly to center himself. "I...I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, a worried frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he cautiously dragged their hands over their mutual arousal.

"You won't," Obi-Wan insisted quietly with a slow shake of his head, stretching up to bring his lips to Anakin's. "I do want this, and I _trust_ you, Anakin," he murmured against the other man's parted lips, groaning softly when Anakin's cock twitched and rubbed against his in tandem to their increasingly rapid strokes. "I trust you with my life and with my heart, how could I not trust you with my body? Please, let me share this with you."

Anakin moaned against the other man's mouth, licking, biting, then pulled away with a reluctant whine. "Master...no," he panted, shaking his head. "I...I want to, _stang,_ I want to so much, but," he tried to catch his breath, continuing to shake his head. "I don't want to hurt you, and you wouldn't tell me if I did, I know you, Obi-Wan. You'd eat your own lightsaber first, and you know it." Frowning, he gently slid his hand out from between them, stroking his fingertips over Obi-Wan's chin. "Please...please understand...I can't...I _won't_ hurt you, please don't ask that of me. I can...I can wait," he offered unconvincingly, trying to sound decisive but quickly losing the tone in the distressed whimper he couldn't quite swallow down. "We sh-should wait."

Obi-Wan kissed Anakin's fingertips, a whisper of a smirk gracing his lips. "Well, yes, that is good to know, and I am relieved to hear that you do not willingly wish to harm me. Except..." He smiled devilishly, deliberately tightening his grip on Anakin's length, giving it a long, slow pull. "That in this case, I do think your chivalrous offer is rather premature. And wholly unnecessary, to be honest."

" _Obi-Wan,"_ Anakin growled; Obi-Wan's placating words and very persuasive hand weren't helping his resolve in the least. Groaning, he hung his head in despair, hopelessly caught between two equally compelling desires. "Come on, I told you, I...can't...we have to—"

"Wait? Oh, I don't think so." Obi-Wan shot him a mocking look of dismay, casually twirling a stray ringlet around his forefinger. "Anakin, _Anakin,_ " he chided, clicking his tongue before sucking his lip between his teeth with a provocative hiss. "We are two _Jedi._ Surely we can figure out _some_ way to make this happen?"

Nosing Anakin's chin up, he left a string of entreating, increasingly persuasive kisses up his jawline, nuzzling in the earthy scent behind one ear. "Unless, of course, you would prefer allowing the Separatists—and their annoying little devices—to dictate when...and how...we...?" Obi-Wan let the suggestion hang in the air as he took Anakin's hand and slid it deep into his Master's leggings, over the skin of his hip down to the small of his back.

Anakin's cock throbbed, hard and aching, and he thrust upward into Obi-Wan's tight fist, squeezing his eyes shut with a shuddering breath. "No...no..." he rambled incoherently, his tactical mind grasping futilely for some kind of solution, some way to appease his ingrained Padawan's instinct to protect _and_ obey his Master. Brazenly palming his hand lower over the curve of Obi-Wan's ass, he let out a low, needy whine. "I...I don't know... _Master_...please...I don't know..."

" _Innovate,_ Anakin," Obi-Wan growled low and sultry in his ear, pushing back against Anakin's wandering hand with an answering rumble of approval. Gesturing over his shoulder with a suggestive tilt of his head, he smiled invitingly. "Get behind me."

Anakin's eyes flew open and he nodded as a slow, salacious grin formed on his lips, eagerly capturing Obi-Wan's tempting mouth in a thankful, hungry kiss before withdrawing from their tangled embrace. Swinging a leg over and behind his Master, he pushed himself up on one elbow, waiting until Obi-Wan had rolled to the outside edge of the bunk before carefully settling down behind him. Anakin spooned himself snugly around the other man, snuffling into the nape of his neck with a low growl of untempered desire. "W-want you, Master," Anakin mumbled into his ear, drawing Obi-Wan closer to him, the deliberate and persistent grind of his hips managing to work the other man's leggings down perilously low. "Want you now, so much. But...you...you have to tell me if...promise me..."

"I want...you...too," Obi-Wan gasped, feeling the twitch of Anakin's cock, hard, smooth, and insistent, over the increasingly exposed skin along his backside. He craned his neck around and gazed yearningly at Anakin. "It will be alright," he promised in a placating whisper, giving Anakin's arm a reassuring squeeze. "I trust you, Anakin. Please, trust me?"

"And they say I'm the reckless one," Anakin chuckled lightly. "I do trust you, I just..." Hugging him closer, he buried his face in the fragrant warmth of Obi-Wan's neck. He cautiously slid his hand up the length of Obi-Wan's thigh, concentrating on the dappled skin and bruised welts just beyond his fingertips. "I've wanted this...you...for so long. I...I want it to be good for you, I don't want you to regret it, and, and...you might...if it's not," he confessed with a shrug, pressing a kiss to the juncture of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder.

Obi-Wan couldn't help the bark of laughter that burst out of him. "Anakin, honestly, the only thing I'm going to regret is the _considerable_ amount of time it is taking to allay that very stubborn protective streak of yours." Angling his arm back, he tenderly grasped at the only cluster of curls his fingers could find. "And at the risk of _stroking_ your already inflated ego yet again, you needn't worry, it will be good _because_ it's with you, of that I am certain," Obi-Wan assured him softly, coaxing Anakin into another heated, possessive kiss.

Anakin reciprocated with a wicked swirl of his tongue around Obi-Wan's, grinning against his lips at the other man's appreciative groan. "I wasn't worried about me, Master," he smirked smugly, dragging a single finger up the backside of Obi-Wan's thigh and over his ass with a faint, teasing scratch of the nail.

Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, skin prickling, and shivered against Anakin. "Really. _Well_." He cast a sly, playful glance over his shoulder at Anakin, lips twitching and twisting into an answering smirk of his own. "In that case, I would have you know that while my...performance...may be slightly, er, diminished this time around," he confided in a voice thickened with a lilting sensuality, "it does not lessen in any measure _how much I want you_ , Anakin Skywalker. _Right now._ " Obi-Wan flung his hand back between them to press Anakin's cock firmly against his ass, grunting as he circled his hips to increase the deliciously tormenting friction once more. Desperate and painfully aroused by the feel of Anakin so, so close and yet not nearly close enough, he began to fumble and pull at the sagging waistband of his leggings, swearing when the worn material ripped open along the seam. _"Okay,_ I may regret that. Blast _."_

" _O-Obi-Wan,"_ Anakin moaned loudly against his Master's shoulder, surrendering to the rapturous sensation of the underside of his cock ruthlessly rubbing and dragging along the cleft of Obi-Wan's ass. Overwhelmed, he groaned and clamped his hand over the sensitized head, panting as he single-handedly pawed at the other man's clothing. "It's okay, just...off, off, these need to be _off_ ," Anakin hissed, impatiently tugging at the other leg until they tore all the way down to the knee. "Sorry, sorry, you needed new ones anyway," he reasoned hastily, planting greedy wet kisses along the back of Obi-Wan's neck as he shoved the irreparably damaged fabric down as far as he could reach.

"I certainly do now," Obi-Wan snorted, kicking them the rest of the way off. "That's coming out of your stipend, you realize. I will not be h-held accountable for y-your uncivilized behavior," he stuttered, moaning softly as Anakin's hand slipped down over his hip, folding around his aching, neglected erection.

" _So worth it,"_ Anakin moaned in return, arching against Obi-Wan's now blissfully naked backside as he glided his hand down his Master's shaft, drifting lower to expertly cup and massage his balls. _"_ I'll give you my entire stipend if it means I can do it again." Raising his head, Anakin mouthed along Obi-Wan's shoulder while his eyes roved around the room, frantically searching the small quarters. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he muttered impatiently, "there's gotta be something... _kriff."_

The Force rippled as Obi-Wan's hand shot out and Anakin heard a light slap against his palm. "Here, here, use this," Obi-Wan ordered hoarsely, urgently shoving a small tube of something into his hand. He tossed a smirk over his shoulder, goading Anakin with a mocking lift of his ever-arching brow. "I do trust you know what to do with it?"

Anakin glanced briefly at the tube, sighing with obvious relief. "I _might,_ " he agreed with an insolent grin, trailing his fingertips up the length of Obi-Wan's cleft suggestively in response. Pulling the cap off with his teeth, he spit it aside. "But I should warn you, Master, it's pretty... _uncivilized."_

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his chest and let out a constricted whimper as Anakin lingered teasingly near his entrance. "I would certainly hope so," he ground out, taking a deep, shuddering breath before turning back, fixing his impassioned gaze upon the younger man. "I want you, Anakin" Obi-Wan growled in a whisper laced with needy desperation, reaching back to seize Anakin's tenacious hand. "But...I can't...I won't last much longer..."

With a shake of his head, Anakin swooped down, ardently biting and sucking messily at Obi-Wan's lips. "Neither will I, neither will I..." he mumbled between kisses, "I want you so much." Not bothering to remove his leggings, Anakin yanked them open fully, hitching them down just far enough to fully release his cock, moaning as he ran a hand over its length. "Force, it's _so_ much better when you do it, you know that?"

"You would be wise not to underestimate me, I am a man of many hidden talents," Obi-Wan chuckled, slipping his hand inside Anakin's leggings, petting over the smooth skin of his backside and kneading his fingers into the rounded flesh. "Hmm, and wouldn't you like to know what else," he intimated with a playful pinch to the younger man's ass.

" _Nnnugggh."_ Anakin clenched his ass reflexively against the pinch and growled his passion-hungry approval, an arousing thrill of wonder shooting through him as he momentarily imagined the _what, when,_ and _where_ of what Obi-Wan was insinuating. " _Yes_ , and I _will_. I promise you that."

Wetting his fingers, Anakin tentatively slid them down Obi-Wan's cleft, circling the tips of two fingers over his entrance with a light, constant pressure. "Is this okay?" he whispered anxiously into his ear, petting his other arm down the length of his Master's until he could thread their fingers together. "Remember, you promised you'd tell me."

Obi-Wan bit his lip and nodded, tightening his fingers with Anakin's as he writhed back into the sensuous, intimate touch. "I will. Just...just go slowly. I trust you, Anakin."

Sliding just the tip of one slick finger into Obi-Wan, Anakin left hot wet kisses along his neck from his shoulder to his ear, sucking at the lobe as he waited, rubbing and pressing gently as Obi-Wan relaxed, slipping in further as the other man opened to him. "Still okay?" he asked again, cautiously twisting his wrist to begin a leisurely glide in and out of him.

Surprised by Anakin's restraint and tenderness, by the way it should have felt intrusive yet felt anything but, Obi-Wan pushed back against his finger, gasping softly. "Yes, yes," he breathed, biting his lip and arching his head back against Anakin's shoulder.

Withdrawing gently, Anakin re-wet his fingers, kissing and burrowing his lips into the soft whiskers just below Obi-Wan's ear. "More?" he asked softly, teasing his entrance again with fleeting brushes and fluttering strokes.

Obi-Wan reached back, pressing Anakin's fingers firmly against him. "More," he agreed with a low growl, closing his eyes as Anakin gradually worked two fingers into him, quietly moaning and rocking against them as Anakin slipped them in and out, curling his fingertips just so.

Anakin continued to slide and rub his long fingers inside Obi-Wan, listening to every gasp, every hitch of his Master's breath, terrified of hurting him and yet determined to bring him as much pleasure and love as he could. Resting his forehead between Obi-Wan's shoulder blades, he grinned broadly when the other man let out a fierce whispered plea to some Outer Rim deity Anakin could barely recall and was pretty sure his Master didn't normally call upon for deliverance. "Good?"

"Yes. By all the Corellian hells _, yes_ ," Obi-Wan rasped, stiffening against him with a soft cry when Anakin crooked his fingers and _pressed. "Anakin_ ," he moaned helplessly, fighting the overwhelming desire to topple over into sated oblivion just from those skilled and relentless fingers. He didn't want that, not this time, and he knew Anakin didn't either. Twisting his arm, Obi-Wan wrapped his fingers around Anakin's cock, stroking awkwardly from the angle. "C-certainly you can think of something that would be even better...for us both...can't you?"

"Y-yes, but _stang,_ you need to s-stop that," Anakin stuttered and clamped his hand around Obi-Wan's, nevertheless pushing up into his inverted fist. Licking and nuzzling behind his Master's ear, Anakin gently pried away the other man's fingers, rubbing circles over the roughened ridge of Obi-Wan's knuckles with his thumb. "Are you sure you're ready?" he whispered with genuine concern, brushing Obi-Wan's hair out of his eyes as he withdrew his fingers.

Nodding, Obi-Wan licked his lips and inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering as Anakin's fingers regrettably retreated. "Please, I don't want to wait any longer," he entreated softly, guiding Anakin toward his entrance. "I need you."

Hand trembling as he dug around in the blanket, Anakin heaved a nervous sigh when his fingers closed around the tube. Taking his cock in hand and slicking it generously with the lubricant, he rubbed the head against Obi-Wan's entrance, swallowing hard. "Oh, Force...Obi-Wan..." he choked, closing his eyes, nearly undone right then by the realization of what was about to happen.

" _Now,_ Anakin," Obi-Wan encouraged him, clawing at Anakin's hip to urge him closer. He dug his nails into the other man's thigh, panting as the tip of Anakin's cock pushed inward, trying in vain to suppress the wanton moan that resonated from somewhere deep within him. _"Yes."_

Shaking and determined not to hurt his Master, Anakin cautiously slid the head of his cock in, biting his lip in concentration as he pushed slowly, Obi-Wan's body gradually accepting his length deeper with each gentle press of his hips. "Master," he groaned against the other man's shoulder, resting his hand lightly just above his damaged hip.

With slow shallow thrusts and soft encouraging moans, they continued to rock against each other until Anakin slid completely into Obi-Wan unhindered, their bodies pressed flush and solid against the other. _"_ Kriffing _hells,_ Obi-Wan, _"_ Anakin cursed vehemently, shuddering at the exquisite tightness and heat enveloping his cock. "Feels so good, Master, you feel so good," he murmured fervently into his ear, impatient to _move_ but determined to wait until he was sure Obi-Wan was ready.

"L-language, Ana—" Obi-Wan started to correct, breaking off into a drawn-out moan as Anakin filled him completely. _"Kriffing hells, indeed,"_ he hissed in wholehearted agreement, blithely disregarding his own reprimand. Obi-Wan felt the rampant thrum of Anakin's desire resonating between them, reflecting his own fiery, consuming need for _more_. "You can move, Anakin," he whispered, fierce and urgent, over his shoulder, mouthing along Anakin's jaw as he circled his hips invitingly. "I'm not going to break, you don't have to be so careful."

"I know, it's...it's not that." Anakin's eyes closed and he bit his lip, whimpering softly as his hips made a gentle answering thrust against his Master's. Fully joined with Obi-Wan, Anakin was unprepared for the onslaught of intense emotion and encompassing desire one simple act could unleash within him. They were closer now than they had ever been, but this went beyond their newly-acknowledged attachment and intimacy. Being inside Obi-Wan was trust, it was solace, it was love, and it was blessedly _quiet._ They had precious little quiet in their lives; it was what Anakin craved the most right now and what he wanted to cherish now that he had it, here in this place with Obi-Wan.

Anakin carefully slipped his arms under and around Obi-Wan, holding him firm against his chest. Resting his chin on Obi-Wan's shoulder, he looked devotedly down at his Master. "Next time, when maybe we're both not so beaten up, I promise, we can be more...creative. You can even _have_ me, if you want," he offered in a near-whisper, grinning as he waggled his eyebrows.

Turning on his chin, Anakin blew a soft puff of air to scatter away a few strands of hair on Obi-Wan's temple. "But this time, I...I want it like this, the way we are now, all soft and slow, calm...quiet. I _need_ it like this, Master." He let his cock slip out just a little before pushing back in with a pleasured sigh. "Please, let me be with you this way."

"Yes, Anakin," Obi-Wan cried out softly, gazing deeply into his partner's eyes as he slid into him fully once more. Anakin's eyes were like a portal into the Force, churning with all of its power and yet tempered by a fierce devotion that still awed and humbled Obi-Wan. _Soft and slow, calm...quiet..._ Obi-Wan nodded his understanding, taking Anakin's hand into his. Everything in their world, even a good share of the relationship he cherished with Anakin, was chaotic, disruptive, combative, _loud_. He brought Anakin's hand to his mouth, leaving soft, soothing kisses on each scabbed and bruised knuckle. "Soft and slow, hmm?" he smiled gratefully, pulling Anakin's arm around him tightly. "I think I like the sound of that."

Anakin released a shuddering breath and kissed along the nape of Obi-Wan's neck, moaning quietly as he slowly began retracting and pumping his hips, each thrust longer and deeper than the last. He pressed and circled his hand, warm and open, against the flat of his Master's stomach, maintaining a gentle, penetrating rhythm between them as his mouth hungrily roved over the other man's neck and along his jaw. _"Master,_ " he whimpered softly, lowering his hand to close around Obi-Wan's softened erection, stroking his hand in a slow tempo that matched his thrusts.

Obi-Wan was overwhelmed by the multitude of pleasurable sensations assaulting him all at once, and unaccustomed to allowing himself to feel _any_ of them, he allowed himself to feel _all of them_. It was dizzying, breathtaking, absolutely electrifying, and when Anakin took his cock back into his hand, it threw him dangerously close to tumbling over that glorious precipice once again. Gasping, he felt his cock harden again almost instantly, lapsing into an indecisive pattern of forward lunges and backward thrusts. "A-Anakin," he choked helplessly, "I'm not...I can't...not long..." he broke off, head lolling and moaning shamelessly at a particularly spectacular twist and slide up his shaft.

Anakin rubbed through the considerable wetness coating the tip of Obi-Wan's cock, spreading it down its length with a wicked glide of his thumb. "I know, it's okay, it's okay," he whispered, brushing his lips hot and eager against his ear, "I _want_ you to." Anakin knew he wasn't far behind; he felt the stirring pull deep in his groin, felt how his buried cock jumped and stiffened from just knowing, _feeling_ , that Obi-Wan was already there. With a soft grunt, he thrust slow, hard, and deep into Obi-Wan as he slid his slickened hand over the head of the other man's cock and down the shaft once more. "Come for me, Obi-Wan," he urged softly, "Please."

Dropping his chin to his chest, Obi-Wan finally surrendered himself to Anakin's whispered pleas, to his hand so warm and relentless and _right_ on his cock, to the sense of utter satisfaction and wholeness their joining brought deep to his soul. Letting all of the emotion and sensation surround and flow through him, he surrendered to it all, blissfully falling into the brilliant abyss of pleasure and completion as he came against Anakin's hand with a profound shudder, calling out his name in a breathy, rapturous sigh.

Anakin tried desperately to still himself, wanting to give Obi-Wan time catch his breath, to make sure he was alright. Leaving soft kisses along his cheek, he made a memory of this moment, of the way Obi-Wan had said his name as he came, of the pleased, sated expression on his face now. As his Master's still-dazed eyes blinked open, peeking out from beneath his hopelessly tousled hair and he mouthed the words ' _thank you,'_ against Anakin's lips, Anakin wondered if there would ever be a more perfect moment, or if he could ever possibly want Obi-Wan Kenobi more than he did right now.

"Obi-Wan, I...I can't..." he whined softly, biting his lip as he pressed his forehead between the other man's shoulders. Shaking, restraining himself from thrusting like he so achingly wanted to, he let out a guttural, agonized moan as he watched his cock slip incrementally in and out of Obi-Wan. "C-can I, please? W-want you, so much, p-please, can I?"

Through the haze of his receding climax, Obi-Wan felt the way Anakin trembled and strained against him, breath hot and frantic as he begged for a permission he need not ask for, and Obi-Wan wanted _nothing_ more than to bring Anakin the same pleasure, the same _completeness_ that Anakin had just brought to him. "Yes, _yes_ , Anakin," he consented, bringing the younger man's trembling hand to the back of his hip and curling his fingers into his skin possessively. "Please, now."

Whimpering with relief, Anakin gripped almost bruisingly at Obi-Wan's backside, pushing deep into the other man and circling his hips slowly before pulling nearly all the way out. He buried his face in Obi-Wan's neck once more as he began a languid cadence of long, deep, arching thrusts, filling Obi-Wan over and over, each one infused with all of his need and love and desire for the only man he would ever, _ever_ share himself with. "Want you...Master...need you, so much..." he mumbled as rocked against Obi-Wan, lips rough and wet and devouring as they roamed over slick, salty skin and sweat-dampened hair.

"You have me, Anakin, you'll always have me," Obi-Wan promised fervently, mouthing hasty, assuring kisses along the curve of bicep wrapped around him. "You don't have to hold back, please, I want this, too," he urged in a rough whisper of a moan, overtaken by the ferocious, almost primal need radiating outward from Anakin with every word, every touch, every possessive, claiming, _owning_ thrust.

Anakin cried out, undone by his Master's pledge of fidelity to him, knowing that he wasn't alone, that he wouldn't ever be alone, that he would always have Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan would have him. Anakin clutched the other man to his chest, chanting his name in a mindless reverent incantation, and thrust once, twice, three times, until he came with a soft cry deep within Obi-Wan, shaking and murmuring nonsense words of gratitude and love into his hair with nuzzled kisses and gentle touches.

Exhilarated and exhausted, Obi-Wan smiled tiredly, stroking a hand up and down Anakin's forearm as he reveled in the soul-warming strength of Anakin's loving embrace. He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself in the moment, of being here, now, like this with Anakin, shutting out the noise of the war and the call of duty so that all he could hear was the din of the transport's hyperdrive, the murmur of Anakin's voice at his back, and the hum of the Force radiating peacefully through them. Sighing, he turned his head, mouthing lazy kisses along whatever expanse of skin he encountered.

"Mmm." Hugging Obi-Wan close one more time, Anakin drew him into another long, languorous kiss, eventually pulling out of him with a contented sigh. "Miss you already," he whispered hoarsely, skimming his hand over the curve of Obi-Wan's ass.

"Insatiable," Obi-Wan chuckled softly, trying to stifle a yawn. "Some of us, however, do require some sort of restful interlude after such an exertion." He twisted around and brushed his thumb along Anakin's cheek affectionately. "Will you stay?" he asked with a hopeful, self-conscious smile. "I...I would like it if you did."

Smiling, Anakin nodded and closed his eyes briefly, leaning into the caress. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere," he replied, rolling more on to his back. "Come here?" he beckoned with outstretched arms, "I...I want to keep holding you, is that okay?"

Curling into his invitingly warm embrace, Obi-Wan settled himself comfortably against Anakin's chest, fighting off another yawn. With a languid, pleased smile, he watched his fingertips tap lightly along a bit of collarbone and let his eyes fall shut, shivering as the room's environmental controls cycled on with a resonating rumble. Opening one eye, Obi-Wan gazed around the room and idly flicked a finger, tripping the controls. "Blasted thing," he grumbled, shifting closer to Anakin. "Remind me to speak to Cody about running a diagnostic on the frequency intervals of the ship's systems."

Anakin couldn't help but laugh. "There's nothing wrong with the frequency, Master. I calibrated it myself before we deployed." He leaned forward with a smirk, roaming his hands down Obi-Wan's back and over his ass. "You're just _really_ naked," he said in a stage whisper, grinning as the other man mumbled a despairing groan against his skin. "And don't think I missed what you did there—that's _twice_ now." Anakin clicked his tongue with a teasing disapproval. "Do I need to report you for flagrant and repeated misuse of the Force, Master Kenobi?"

"Oh, _absolutely_ ," Obi-Wan snorted, burrowing further into Anakin's warmth, "right after you report yourself for the extra blankets you're about to get for us." He deliberately ignored Anakin's lamentably forthright observation regarding his lack of apparel. Anakin at least still had his leggings mostly _on;_ his own, Obi-Wan frowned to himself, were laying in tatters somewhere, completely useless, and space was kriffing _cold_. Taking Anakin's loitering hand off his backside, he gestured out toward the cabinets, giving Anakin's hand a patronizing pat. "Now, do be a good Padawan and do as I say."

Anakin laughed again, squeezing Obi-Wan's hand as he pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. "Yes, Master." Stilling himself in concentration, he let his eyes fall into tiny slits as he mentally searched the room, finally deciding on the bottom drawer near the sink. With a nudge of the Force he opened the drawer, grinning in victory as he called two blankets over with a lift of his hand.

As he arranged the blankets over them, Anakin gazed downward, watching Obi-Wan's head rise and fall on his chest with each intake of breath, and felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest. He loved this man so much, so much that it hurt sometimes, and yet Anakin could not imagine how he could possibly love him any _less_. "Obi-Wan?" he croaked out softly, drawing lazy patterns across his Master's shoulder and between the blades.

Lulled by Anakin's warmth and the calming beat of his heart beneath him, Obi-Wan smiled contentedly at the touch. "Hmm?" he mumbled sleepily, glancing up at Anakin through a mess of bangs.

Anakin pushed back the hair with an adoring smile, skating a fingertip around and around an old comet-shaped scar on Obi-Wan's shoulder he'd always been oddly fond of. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and shook his head. "Nothing," he whispered with a fleeting smile, "it's nothing. You should sleep. You need it."

"Anakin." Alert now, Obi-Wan opened his eyes fully and rested his chin on Anakin's chest, looking at him with a curious expression. _Nothing_ always meant _something_ where Anakin was concerned, and the vulnerability he so easily read on the younger man's face told him this was important. "I will sleep after you tell me. What is it?"

Anakin swallowed again, turning away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes shone with unshed tears, and he stroked his fingers lovingly along his Master's jaw, cupping his chin in his hand. "I just..." he shuddered, then hiccuped a laugh, smiling down at Obi-Wan. "I just really love you. That's all."

Heart pounding in his chest from the humbling sincerity of Anakin's declaration, Obi-Wan's gaze softened and he smiled back tremulously. "I..." _I love you, too,_ he wanted to say, Force knewhe wanted to, but the words would not come, stuck rough and dry in his throat like he's swallowed the entirety of Tatooine's Dune Sea, and he just... _couldn't_. Obi-Wan ran his fingertips over Anakin's lips, nodding, trying to convey with the solemnity of his touch what he was unable to acknowledge with his words. "I...know, Anakin," he said finally, tucking himself under Anakin's chin and brushing a gentle, lingering kiss to the hollow of his throat. "I know."

Anakin blinked away the tears, smiling as he wrapped himself around Obi-Wan's body, sighing his relief and contentment. He hadn't expected Obi-Wan to return the sentiment; he wasn't sure his Master ever would, but Anakin understood now, without hesitation, that Obi-Wan _did_ love him, even if he couldn't allow himself to express it that way. It was who Obi-Wan was, and Anakin loved him for it, regardless.


	6. Part VI

_Anakin:  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am home again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again  
  
Obi-Wan:  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am young again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am fun again  
  
_ ** _Lovesong_** , The Cure  
  


Anakin found himself reluctantly drawn into a hazy state of semi-consciousness by the by the grinding whine of the hyperdrive engine powering down and the subtle lurch of realspace reversion, but it took the distinctive chime of a comm going off for him to realize he'd fallen asleep. Pleasantly warm and willfully ignoring the disturbance, he shifted beneath the blankets, edged further into wakefulness by the heavy weight draped so comfortably and intimately across him, reminding him that he wasn't alone.

Without opening his eyes, a small, pleased expression flitted across his face as he remembered the events of the previous day and just who was wrapped around him on this tiny narrow bunk and exactly how they got here. Tightening his hold on the figure in his arms, Anakin pressed a quiet kiss to his hair and inhaled deeply, his smile broadening as he peeked open an eye.

Obi-Wan lay contentedly within the circle of Anakin's arms, soundly asleep with his head pillowed near Anakin's shoulder, a sprawl of auburn bangs obscuring one eye and part of his nose. Anakin nodded to himself; it was a testament to how fatigued Obi-Wan was, how much his body needed a respite in order to restore itself after the trauma it had sustained, that he had missed his comm call. If he had the power, Anakin would have stayed like this forever with Obi-Wan, frozen in this perfect moment of peace and quiet.

When Obi-Wan's comm went off again, Anakin sighed, mildly annoyed, but when his own comm chimed a few seconds later from somewhere beneath where they lay, he narrowed his eyes menacingly, pondering for a moment what it would take to silence the kriffing notification mechanism with the Force. Focusing on the wiring diagram he could so easily visualize in his mind, he thought if he just touched _this_ wire to _that_ nodule and rerouted the— The simultaneous buzz _and_ chime of both their comms startled him out of his concentration, and he threw his head back, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and mouthing several choice words Obi-Wan would never approve of.

"It is not going to answer itself," came a sleepy grumble from within Anakin's arms. Obi-Wan half-rolled off him, angling his head up to face him and cracked open an eye. "Duty calls, Anakin," he yawned grouchily. "Do tell it to stop."

Anakin laughed softly at Obi-Wan's unusually uncharitable attitude. "Maybe if we ignore it, it'll go away?" he whispered hopefully, running his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair as he left a kiss on his shoulder.

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," Obi-Wan smiled sleepily, closing his eyes at the touch. "Anakin, we really should—" their comms buzzed again "—get that," he mumbled, rolling his face into Anakin's chest, forgetting about his hip and whimpering softly as he lay on it.

"Still bad?" Anakin intoned with a concerned frown, rubbing his hand down Obi-Wan's back in slow strokes. "It's going to take some time, Obi-Wan. Don't rush it. You need to take some R&R when we dock with _Valiant_ , okay? I mean it. Promise me?"

"Stop worrying...answer it... _Valiant..._ " Obi-Wan stirred, groaning against Anakin's skin as he drifted back into slumber.

With a soft snicker and a soothing pat to Obi-Wan's back, Anakin shook his head and carefully dug around behind him, fishing out his comm from where it was wedged between the bunk and the wall. "Skywalker. Hey, Cody, yeah...go ahead," he said with a jaw-cracking yawn, clicking it to the privacy setting so that it wouldn't disturb Obi-Wan. He slouched against the wall and leaned his head back, rolling his eyes as he listened disinterestedly. "Yeah...okay. Uh huh, I'll..." he smiled down at Obi-Wan, brushing at the hair on his neck, "I'll make sure to brief General Kenobi. Tell them we'll meet them on deck at...what time is it now? Tell them 1300 hours. _What?_ I don't care who's coming, General Kenobi's not available until then. I.." He sighed, annoyed. "I know, I _know_. Tell him _I_ said so, Commander. If he doesn't like it, he can... Cody, just tell him. And... thanks. Skywalker out." He clicked off the comm with his thumb, momentarily considering whether to crush the damn thing or chuck it across the room. He decided either was likely to wake Obi-Wan, so he levitated it silently over to the counter, glaring at it like it had personally offended him.

"Brief me on what?" Obi-Wan asked fuzzily, his voice still rough with sleep. "Come back here, it's cold," he complained, pulling Anakin around him tighter.

"Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping," Anakin said quietly, compliantly curling around his Master. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry," he apologized, planting soft kisses along the other man's neck. "Go back to sleep, I'll tell you later."

"Can feel you...irritated. Why?" Obi-Wan sighed dreamily as Anakin's lips traveled soothingly over his skin, trying to fend off the tempting lure of additional sleep. " _Valiant_ here?"

Anakin hesitated, considering hedging the truth to keep Obi-Wan from waking any further, but then nodded, figuring his Master could feel that they had dropped out of hyperspace just as well as he could. "Yeah, just about." He snuffled into Obi-Wan's hair, breathing in deeply. "We still have some time, though."

"Hmm," Obi-Wan mumbled suspiciously, beginning to stretch out within Anakin's arms. "What else aren't you telling me?" With a grunt, he rolled over carefully this time and blinked his eyes open, squinting at Anakin in the harsh lights of the room's day cycle. "And what time is it?"

"It's 0900. And...we're, uh, having visitors," Anakin sighed reluctantly, running a hand through his hair and frowning his displeasure. "The Admiral's ferrying Windu and Vos out to the Arkanis sector, and he wants us to debrief them on Shylera and our recon on possible GAR outposts in the surrounding systems," he revealed carefully, bracing for the inevitable reaction.

"Excuse me?" Obi-Wan's eyes opened fully in alarm, and with a sharp groan he tried to sit up. "Mace is on his way _here_? With _Quinlan?_ Oh, that is just _fantastic,_ " he muttered sarcastically, rubbing ruthlessly at his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying grind away the last remnants of sleep. Pushing against Anakin, he got himself up on one elbow. "Anakin, come on, we need to ready our reports and inspect—" He frowned as the other man's hands circled closer around his waist. _"Anakin,"_ Obi-Wan sighed exasperatedly, halfheartedly straining against Anakin as he was tugged back down into the nearly irresistible warmth, "we don't have time—"

"Sure we do," Anakin assured him, easing them both back down comfortably on the bunk. "We have a couple of hours before we're due on deck, don't worry." With a self-satisfied grin, he leaned forward to kiss Obi-Wan. "I told them you wouldn't be available for a while."

"You did _what_?" Obi-Wan twisted his lips away, mouth hanging open as he stared aghast at Anakin. "You cannot simply brush off an Admiral and two Generals of the Republic!" he groaned, dropping his forehead to Anakin's chest in dismay. _"Anakin..."_

"Well, I kind of just did," Anakin shrugged matter-of-factly. He tucked his fingers under Obi-Wan's chin and tilted his head up, giving his Master a significant, stern look. "You _need_ to rest, Master. You're overextended, you're recovering from a serious injury, and your knee's so banged up you can hardly walk. I know you—you won't do it on your own, and Windu's certainly not going to tell you to, so _I_ am. You are going to _rest."_

Even though he irritatingly could not refute anything Anakin had said, Obi-Wan still frowned and shook his head. "Anakin, while I... _appreciate_ ," he ground the carefully chosen word out slowly, "your concern, I am still the servant of a Republic in the midst of a galactic crisis. I cannot just shirk my duty in favor of a lie in, as much as I might like to. I have responsibilities—"

"—that I will take care of," Anakin finished for him, putting a finger against his lips with an earnest smile. "Come on, stop your fretting and let me handle it," he cajoled, coaxing Obi-Wan's head back down on his chest. "It's only a couple of hours—the Republic's not going to fall just because you aren't on the bridge when _Valiant_ comes into visual range."

Obi-Wan snorted, scowling his resignation as he reluctantly relaxed into Anakin's arms, shifting about until he was comfortable again. "No, but it very well might if I start making a habit of deferring to your convoluted reasoning and unorthodox methods." With his face still pressed against the younger man's skin, Obi-Wan tilted his chin up toward Anakin, mouth quirking into a warm smile as he snaked an arm around Anakin's waist. "After all, look where it has gotten me."

Nodding, Anakin stretched forward to kiss Obi-Wan, then shifted them down further into the blankets. "Yes, it _is_ awfully alarming to see where a Jedi Master like yourself has ended up, Obi-Wan. I mean," he lifted the coverings and glanced underneath, peeking back over the edge with a decidedly suggestive curve of his lips, "just _look."_ He let the blankets flutter down over them as his hands curved over the other man's backside, teasing them both with an arch of his hips. "It's really _uncivilized_."

Flushing, Obi-Wan felt the beginning stir of arousal pass between them and groaned softly, pressing his face into Anakin's neck. "I thought I was supposed to be resting, and that you were going to take care of things."

Anakin groaned as well, relaxing his hips and letting his hands roam up Obi-Wan's back. He really did want his Master to rest, but it was hard to ignore the alluring temptation when the man was pressed warm and naked against the entire length of his body. "You're right, you're right. I'll behave."

Obi-Wan chuckled, playfully circling his finger around one of Anakin's nipples. "I'm not so certain I want you to."

Anakin flicked his ticklish hand away with a frustrated growl. "Don't say that—I'm going to get ideas. Ideas that are not very restful, Master."

"Well, hmm, Anakin Skywalker _thinking_. We can't have that, can we?" Obi-Wan teased lightly, grinning and raising his eyebrow as he looked up at Anakin.

Anakin scowled and shook his head warningly, bringing his mouth down close to Obi-Wan's. "You know, if you weren't injured, I would flip you over right now and—"

"Oh, promises, promises," Obi-Wan sighed blithely against his mouth, sinking his fingers into Anakin's hair as they melted into an unhurried exchange of soft, licking kisses.

Anakin smiled as they broke apart, releasing a satisfied breath. Toying with a lock of his Master's hair, he gazed down at Obi-Wan curiously. "So, do you think Windu's brought new orders for us? I don't know why he'd have diverted us to rendezvous with _Valiant_ otherwise."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, welcoming the calming sensation of Anakin's fingers in his hair. "It seems likely," he concurred with an unconcerned shrug. "Probably to someplace utterly rife with danger and lacking in any sort of civilized amenities."

Anakin laughed at his Master's resigned and all-too-astute assessment. "So...pretty much the usual?"

"Pretty much. Complete with you pulling hopelessly reckless stunts, carelessly taunting death with a cheeky wink and a smile, and giving me more gray hairs than anyone my age should ever have." Obi-Wan angled his head up, tracing idly along Anakin's jaw line and around his full lips with a slight frown. "I...I still wish you wouldn't go to such lengths to protect me, you know."

Anakin kissed his fingers, nodding. "I know. But you know that's not going to stop me."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said quietly, sighing his reluctant understanding, "I know. It is one of the things that makes you who you are, Anakin. It would be wrong of me to ask you to be anything less than that." He pushed himself up on his elbows, rubbing his hand over Anakin's stomach in slow circles. "But you need to promise me two things."

A puzzled, worried look crossed Anakin's face. "Okay...what?" he asked warily, petting along the firm muscle of Obi-Wan's bicep. He didn't know what his Master was going to ask him to promise, but he was pretty sure, by the cautious, serious tone Obi-Wan had adopted, one he knew only too well from an abundance of lectures, that he wasn't going to like it. "Tell me."

Obi-Wan hesitated before meeting Anakin's eyes. "First, I need to know you will be more careful." He lifted his eyebrow challengingly when he caught the roll of Anakin's eyes. "I meant what I said, Anakin—I could not _bear_ it if anything happened to you, particularly if you were endangering yourself on my behalf." His expression softened, and he kissed the corner of Anakin's pouting mouth. "I just want you to be safe. I've become rather selfish in that regard, you'll have to forgive me that."

Anakin huffed and scrubbed a hand tiredly over his face, pinching his temples between the span of two fingers. "Fine. But you have to promise me, then, that _you're_ going to be more careful, too." He frowned petulantly at Obi-Wan and poked at spot on the other man's chest, just above the slug bruise. " _I'm_ not the only one here with a reckless streak a lightyear wide. No more going off on fool's errands without me. I mean it, Obi-Wan. We're a _team_ , and that means we stick together, alright?" he demanded, waiting expectantly for Obi-Wan to agree, because there was _no way_ he could keep his promise if his Master wasn't going to do the same.

Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged as he dropped his head forward with a heavy sigh. He didn't have any idea quite _how_ this was going to work, but they were going to have to _make_ it work, and at least he knew the other man was taking him seriously. The least he could do in return was to take Anakin's concerns to heart as well. "Alright, Anakin, alright," he acquiesced, lifting his head with a small, rueful smile at his partner. "But," he continued, raising a finger in exception, "I agree with the caveat that things do not always go according to plan—in fact, in our case, they rarely do. However, you are right, we are a team, and I will do my best to honor that whenever it is possible. Is that satisfactory?"

Anakin grunted, grasping Obi-Wan's finger and tugging their hands down to rest entwined just beneath Anakin's chin. "I guess," he mumbled grudgingly, his face darkening with a jealous, possessive glare. "But that _especially_ means no more Organa. I don't like the way he looks at you, and he's worse than you are at finding trouble."

Obi-Wan just rolled his eyes. "I know it does defy your pessimistic appraisal of my abilities, but I _can_ manage to take care of my self—and others—on occasion, I'll have you know." He reddened and cast his eyes downward. "And Bail does not _look_ at me in any such way, Anakin. _Honestly,_ " he huffed with embarrassment.

Anakin simply nodded, choking back the laughter bubbling up in his throat at Obi-Wan's endearingly flustered indignation. "If you say so..." he demurred, angling his head down to hide his smirk by kissing at their laced fingers supporting his chin. "Okay, so...I'll be more careful, and you will, too." He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "So, what's the second?"

Clearing his throat nervously, Obi-Wan looked at him gravely for a moment, wishing he didn't have to ask this, wishing for a moment that they were different people in a different life, where this was a choice and not a sacred and sworn obligation. "Anakin, I need your word you will put your duty first. Above your needs, above mine, above anything else. Duty _must_ come first." He looked entreatingly at Anakin, liberating a thumb from their clasped hands to stroke tenderly over his chin and bottom lip. "Is that something you can promise me?"

"But...you...you said..." Swallowing repeatedly, a hurt and confused look crossed Anakin's face, and he slowly pulled his hand out from Obi-Wan's, dumbfounded by the request. He had believed this was settled; after everything they had shared, he thought, he _felt,_ that Obi-Wan had _understood,_ and yet here they were, back at the beginning, talking about his kriffing _duty._ "I...I thought..." His breath quickened into short, agitated bursts and he coughed, turning his face away from Obi-Wan's touch to stare dejectedly at the barren wall next to the bunk. "You _said..._ " he repeated despondently, blinking rapidly as he picked at the frayed edge of the blanket. "I don't...I don't understand, Obi-Wan."

Despite having expected such a reaction, it nevertheless wounded Obi-Wan deeply to see how much his request had devastated Anakin. He hated that he had put that look on Anakin's face, after he'd been witness to so much beauty and joy on it so very recently, but he would be doing them both, and their budding new relationship, such irreparable harm if they did not come to some kind of understanding with each other on this fundamental issue. "Anakin, please, I want you to listen to me," Obi-Wan asked placatingly, placing his hand over Anakin's and squeezing his fingers gently, trying to bring some measure of calm to the storm of conflicting emotions swirling through their bond.

"I have meant every single thing I've said to you. You are so utterly important to me, you are my _heart_ , and you...you _know_ how difficult that was for me to admit, but I do, I _embrace_ it, as much as I embrace you here, right now. I don't want to live this life—or any life—without you in it, by my side or in my arms." Obi-Wan took hold of Anakin's chin and coaxed his head around to face him, looking solemnly up at the younger man. "What I am asking of you is to be _all_ of who you are, and that includes _Jedi Knight_ Anakin Skywalker. Can you be that man for me? _With_ me?"

" _Obi-Wan..."_ Anakin blinked at him, a single stray tear winding a path down his cheek, and he closed his eyes with a heavy, pained sigh. "Do you...do you _know_ how hard this will be for me?" he rasped, licking his lips as he tried to steady his breath. "To have put other people, other _things,_ ahead of you, where you could...you could..." He opened his eyes, dragging his tortured gaze back to his Master. "Obi-Wan, I don't want to lose you. I...I _can't_ ," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry."

"I know, I know," Obi-Wan soothed, brushing away the tear with the backs of his fingers. "And I'm sorry to have to ask that of you, _and_ of me, but what happened on Shylera is only the beginning of the ways in which we will be tested. _That_ is why I must ask this now, before anything else happens. Do you think this will be easy for me, especially now? Why do you think I've asked you to be careful? _I_ don't want to lose you, either. _I_ can't."

Obi-Wan rested his chin on Anakin's chest with a wry, lopsided smile. "And _that_ , my dear Anakin, is exactly why we're encouraged to avoid attachment. But I suppose it is a moot point now, isn't it?" He rocked forward on his chin just enough to brush his lips in a soft kiss to Anakin's skin and sighed. "All I know for certain is that the Force has set us on this path, and I have to trust that it is our ally and will not abandon us now, not when what's grown between us feels so...so _right._ " Obi-Wan caressed the younger man's shoulder, massaging his thumb along the straining tendon in his neck. "I know it will not always be easy, Force _knows_ it won't be easy, but we _will_ work through this together."

Anakin chewed his lip, closing his eyes as he distressingly considered the implications of what Obi-Wan was truly asking of him. Even though he knew he shouldn't be, Anakin was strangely comforted knowing that if the moment ever came, Obi-Wan would also feel the same conflicted reservation about leaving Anakin to the will of the Force in favor of pursuing his greater duty. That Obi-Wan _would_ honor his duty was something Anakin knew without a doubt, but now, rather than resent the other man for it, he instead drew strength from his Master's unwavering faith in the Force to guide and protect them both. Opening himself to its calming, healing currents, Anakin let all of his fears and anxieties float away and sent a silent prayer into the Force, asking it to watch over Obi-Wan when he couldn't, and to help him find the courage to always be the man Obi-Wan needed him to be.

Taking a deep breath, he blinked open his eyes, slowly releasing it with a shiver. "Okay, Obi-Wan." Anakin cupped the other man's face in his hands and nodded his reluctant but definite resolve. "You have my word. I will honor you and our oath as Jedi, as long as you understand and accept that _you_ are part of my duty, too. That is _not_ negotiable."

Obi-Wan nodded his assent and turned his face into Anakin's hand, pressing an appreciative kiss to his palm. "You are part of my duty as well, you always have been. It is a duty I will forever prize and cherish, and that will never change, I promise you." He took hold of one of Anakin's hands, giving it a gentle, affirming squeeze. "I know how difficult that was for you, and I'm so very proud of you, Anakin. Thank you for giving that to me...and to yourself."

Humbled by his Master's praise, Anakin sent him a shy, grateful smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I should be thanking you, for...for always...well...for everything," he sighed with a shrug, imploringly pulling at Obi-Wan's arms, needing the solid security of his Master's weight pressed fully against him again. "I would do anything for you, Master."

"Oh, if _only_ that were true." Obi-Wan draped his arm across Anakin's chest and propped his chin up on his fist, a rakish grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Need I remind you of the incident on Hapes?"

" _That_...doesn't count," Anakin protested defensively, shaking his head even as he laughed. "You told me we needed to defer to their customs and respect their traditions, and I _did_. Just because that junior princeling challenged me to an honor duel because _his_ betrothed _grabbed my ass_ in the middle of their Solstice gala, and _lost..._ that's not my fault! She was a troll, and besides, I had my eyes on _your_ ass that whole night." His eyebrows went high and he licked his lips, curling them into licentious grin as his splayed hands suggestively pet at Obi-Wan's ass to emphasize his point. "Kriff, your dress robes hide _nothing_ , Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan smacked lightly at Anakin's hands and glanced away, scowling uncomfortably. "You...you need to stop _doing_ that," he groaned, feeling the blush heating his cheeks. "And I am never wearing them again, if that is so. It's completely—"

"Uncivilized, yes, I _know_. Which is why you need to wear them more often," Anakin whispered, beckoning him closer. He took his hands to Obi-Wan's reddened face, dragging his thumb over his Master's parted, protesting lips. "And then after a whole night of watching you, and crazy from not being able to touch, I'm going to take them off of you, and I promise you, it will be anything _but_ civilized."

" _Anakin..."_ Obi-Wan complained in a low growl, his mind spinning endless scenarios set in a multitude of locales, all culminating with Anakin sauntering up to him in the midst of some important delegation and uncouthly dragging him away, all dark eyes and claiming hands and devouring mouth... He moaned softly, embarrassed by his shameless fantasies but just as thoroughly aroused, and stretched up to take Anakin's mouth with his in a hungry, passion-driven kiss, biting and sucking at his lips until they were red, wet and swollen. Panting, Obi-Wan licked consolingly at the ravaged flesh, nuzzling his nose alongside Anakin's. " _Force_ , Anakin, the things you say...the _way_ you say them..."

"Well, I'm really not going to stop saying them if it keeps making you do that," Anakin mumbled with a satisfied smirk against his mouth, parting his lips once more to meet with Obi-Wan's, the kiss this time slow, languorous, perfectly indulgent and content. Breaking away reluctantly, he rested his forehead against his Master's, feeling the other man's breathy sigh soft and warm on his face. "But...I _am_ going to go, let you get some rest now." He gave Obi-Wan another quick kiss and started to disentangle himself from the bedding and get up.

Smiling warmly, Obi-Wan trailed his hand down Anakin's arm as the younger man slipped out of the blankets, squeezing his fingers tightly before letting him go completely. Turning onto his side, he bent his elbow and rested his head on his hand, watching in amusement as Anakin's tongue stuck in the corner of his mouth while he rigged some kind of closure on his leggings with part of a broken lace.

"I think you may need to requisition some new ones," Obi-Wan said with a heartfelt laugh. "Not that I'm unimpressed by your...innovation and creativity, Anakin. I'm just not certain they'll hold up under any sort of duress, and that would be most unfortunate for you to to be caught by the Separatists with your...er...pants down," he quipped with a roguish gleam in his eyes, tugging at Anakin's leggings through the Force with a discreet wiggle of his little finger.

"Hey!" Anakin laughed as he clutched at the flimsy closure, shuffling over to pick something off the floor. " _I_ need to requisition new ones?" he asked, grinning smugly as he shook out the remnants of Obi-Wan's demolished leggings between his hands. "I think it would be _most unfortunate_ if you were caught without _any_ pants, Master." He casually tossed them in the receptacle and strode over to the bunk, kneeling next to Obi-Wan. "Unless you're caught by me. Then that would be most _fortunate_ for both of us," he promised gruffly, bringing his mouth to Obi-Wan's in another lengthy kiss, slipping his tongue inside to lap wet and languid alongside his Master's.

Obi-Wan muffled a brief protest that turned into an encouraging, approving moan as he relaxed into the kiss, slipping his hand under the curls against the nape of Anakin's neck. He grazed his bearded cheek along the younger man's, brushing soft near-kisses over his cheekbone. "Always so uncivilized," he teased softly with a shake of his head.

"That's me. And you _like_ it," Anakin drawled, stealing another series of brief, decadently pleasurable kisses. Catching the chrono on the wall, he rocked back on his heels with a severe pout and a frustrated groan. He really did not relish the thought of leaving _this_ behind in order to meet up with Windu's damning scowl, but he knew Obi-Wan wouldn't rest until he did. "I...I guess I should go. Can I take a blanket with me? My stuff's...somewhere." Standing, he laughed at the look of consternation on Obi-Wan's face. "I'll find it, don't worry," he assured his Master with another burst of laughter. "I will!"

"You had better," Obi-Wan warned with a frown. "It is bad enough you'll be parading about this ship in an obvious state of undress, but do I even dare ask where your lightsaber is?" He arched a knowing, condescending eyebrow. "I didn't think so. And Anakin," he added with a mischievous smirk, the whiskers of his beard twitching with a sly hint of mirth around his mouth, "do try this time to make _clean_ clothing and a trip to a fresher a priority as well, would you please? I would rather that Quinlan's lascivious tongue find something else to wag at than you, and Master Windu will most likely not appreciate your...fragrance."

Anakin smiled shyly, warmed by the edge of possessiveness that had slipped into Obi-Wan's lecture, and lifted his brows with mock surprise. "Do you _want_ me to smell nice for Windu? _I_ don't, in fact, maybe it will keep him away." He sniffed under his arm and crinkled up his nose. "Well...it's been worse, but okay, you have a point. But you know," he pointed at Obi-Wan's head, circling his finger, "you'd better get to work on that hair, because if I were you, I'd be more worried about Vos. _I'm_ not the one he's going to be looking at."

Obi-Wan ran his hand over the back of his head, frowning at the matted clumps and spiky strands sticking out in every direction. "I always worry about Quinlan, he rather evokes that sentiment. Almost as much as you do," he added drily. Combing his fingers self-consciously through the mess, he glanced warily at Anakin. "What do you mean?"

Anakin let the dig pass with a roll of his eyes and snorted a laugh. "Because unlike Windu, he's not _dead_ inside. Even if you somehow manage to avoid him touching you—which would definitely be _my_ preference, but good luck on that one—he's not even going to need his psychometry. All Vos has to do is take one look at you, Master, and he's _so_ going to know that...there's...something to know." He raised his brows, gesturing with his chin toward the receptacle with a smirk. "Especially if you're not, you know, wearing any pants."

Obi-Wan groaned loudly as he sat up, realizing Anakin was right. Quinlan's Jedi gift allowed him the often-useful and, in Obi-Wan's _personal_ experience, mostly-abused ability to read images and memories through touch. _"Kriff,"_ he swore profusely, pressing the tips of a thumb and forefinger against his eyes. "As if I need that degenerate trolling around my mind, gathering fodder for his sordid and debauched activities," he growled to himself, draping the blankets around his waist modestly as he swung his legs over the edge of the bunk, gingerly rubbing at his abused knee.

"I thought he was your friend," Anakin coughed, trying to smother a laugh behind his hand. "Did something happen I don't know about?" His eyes narrowed suddenly, stomach lurching as a troubling, jealous thought occurred to him. "Is there something I _should_ know? Did he do something? Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and held up his hand, shaking his head dismissively. "No, _no_ , nothing like that." He sighed heavily, resting his head in his hands and pressing at his temples. "He's a very good friend, actually, you know that. He's just...he's _Quinlan_ ," he said simply as explanation. Obi-Wan raised his head, setting his chin against his hand, rubbing at his beard thoughtfully. "I don't suppose I could ask you to possibly locate me some proper attire for this blessed reunion, seeing as I'm rather hopelessly confined to quarters?" he appealed to Anakin with a deceptively meek, charming smile.

"You _could_ ," Anakin replied, tilting his head suggestively as a slow smirk spread across his face. "But I have to admit, I'm kind of fond of this sexy, dirty, messy, and _very naked_ look you have going," he said in a silky voice, crossing his arms against his chest, giving Obi-Wan a long once-over. "Especially since I'm mostly responsible for it."

" _Stop_ that! You're as bad as Quinlan, I _swear._ " Completely flustered, Obi-Wan turned scarlet and tossed a blanket at Anakin's head. "And yes, this is all _your_ fault," he groused, trying to look stern as he fought off the shy, rather pleased grin tickling at the corners of his mouth. "As _usual_."

Anakin pulled the covering off his head, scowling at the sparking static that had raised a frizzy halo of ringlets he futilely tried to smooth down. "Always is," he winked cheekily, chuckling as he shrugged the blanket around his shoulders. "Okay, okay, don't worry, I'll have Cody send a full req order over to _Valiant_ ASAP. With any luck, since Vos is onboard, I might be able to score something in black. You however...may be stuck with Windu's tweed."

"Thank you...I think. And it's _Master_ Windu, Anakin. _Master,_ " Obi-Wan corrected with a bored, exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "You are a Knight, and you need to recognize and respect his authority, as difficult as that may seem to you. As a Jedi Master and a member of the Council, he has earned it."

"Nope." Anakin shook his head slowly and knelt down on one knee between Obi-Wan's thighs, taking his Master's hands into his. "The only authority I recognize is right here in front of me. He's the only one who has earned my respect," he declared quietly, and meant it wholeheartedly. Windu, the other Council members, even other Jedi...they had no claim on him, and he owed them no allegiance. His allegiance, his fealty, his _life_ belonged only to Obi-Wan Kenobi, and anything that he bestowed on anyone else was insignificant and fleeting in comparison. Canting his head to the side, Anakin gazed up almost submissively at Obi-Wan, gently weaving their fingers together until their palms pressed flat and warm against the other. "And he's the _only_ one I will ever acknowledge as _Master._ "

Obi-Wan's heart clenched and he sighed nervously, overwhelmed and at a loss for words. "Oh, Anakin..." he faltered, looking down and squeezing Anakin's hands securely in his. He didn't know how to respond, how to express how much he valued, honored and treasured the place he had somehow merited in Anakin's life, when he was still trying to absorb the mere fact that he _did_ have that place. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that," he whispered honestly, smiling as he reached up to caress Anakin's cheek.

With a small shrug, Anakin grasped Obi-Wan's hand and pressed it against his cheek comfortingly. "You don't have to say anything. I...I just hope that maybe you can understand a little more why I act the way I do. You're my Master, my partner, my l-lover," he stammered, grinning broadly as he pushed himself to standing, "and I honor and respect the man _you_ are, Obi-Wan." Anakin bent forward, cupping his hand under his Master's chin, his steadfast gaze burning with ardent, unfathomable devotion for the man in front of him. "I love you, I always will," he vowed, sealing his promise with a soft kiss to Obi-Wan's lips before straightening back up, letting his hand drop heavily to his side as he turned toward the door.

Heart pounding, breath quickening, Obi-Wan swallowed hard, once, twice, looking imploringly at Anakin's back as he moved away. Raking restless, shaking fingers roughly through his hair, he took a deep breath, furiously trying to motivate his deplorably reticent tongue. "Anakin...I l-lo—" he croaked out, his voice lost in swish of the door as Anakin pressed the opening mechanism. Cursing to himself, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and called out to him in an only slightly less-strangled voice. "A-Anakin?"

"Yeah?" Anakin turned around, shivering as the cooler air of the corridor wafted into the room. Hitching the blanket around himself tighter, he looked over and laughed as he caught the look of mild panic shadowing Obi-Wan's face. "I promise, I'll check in on the bridge on my way to my quarters, make sure everything's in line. _And_ get you some pants." Still loath to leave Obi-Wan despite his resolve, Anakin procrastinated, fidgeting hesitantly in the hatchway. "Um...okay, I guess...I'll...I'll see you later..." He smiled fleetingly at the other man, his expression full of longing and tinged with an almost despondent reluctance as he finally forced himself to take a step outside.

Obi-Wan caught the look on Anakin's face as he loitered in the hatchway and groaned helplessly under his breath, gnawing harshly at his lip, fingers curling into a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bunk. "Anakin, wait. _Wait_ ," he cried out when the younger man disappeared out the door, scrubbing a hand over his mouth anxiously, not wanting to leave it this way between them.

He _would not_. Anakin had been right; all they had out here, mired in the banality and futility of this war, was each other. Even with all the benevolences the Force might bestow on _Anakin_ and _Obi-Wan_ , once they walked out that door and resumed their roles as Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, duty-bound servants to a Republic cloaked in darkness and uncertainty, nothing was guaranteed to them, except their deep and abiding commitment to each other. Anakin had been so open and forthright, almost zealous in his pledge of love and fidelity to Obi-Wan, that even though he'd not asked for it in return, Obi-Wan _knew_ Anakin desperately needed the same from him. No, he _wasn't_ like Anakin; he would probably always struggle with acknowledging his emotions and allowing them an outlet beyond meditation, but that did not mean he felt them any _less,_ and he so desperately wished for Anakin to have _heard_ it from him, if only just this once. "Anakin, I need to tell you—"

Eagerly seizing any opportunity to delay his leaving, Anakin quickly ducked back inside, nodding and insolently rolling his eyes. "I know, I _know_. I'll be respectful, I'll not interrupt, I'll—"

Obi-Wan snorted a nervous laugh and rolled his eyes in return. "N-no you won't." Tucking his blanket around his waist, he braced his hands against the edge of the bunk to push himself to standing, wobbling unsteadily between his weakened hip and aching knee. "Anakin, please, listen—"

Anakin sighed dramatically, grinning as he dropped his head in defeat. "You're probably right. But...I'll try." Noticing his Master's tenuous upright stance, he gave Obi-Wan a curious, disapproving frown. "For Sith's sake, sit down before you fall down, would you? You _need_ to get some rest, Obi-Wan," he ordered sternly, pointing at the bed. _"Now._ I'll take care of the reports, Master, you don't have to worry—"

" _I love you, too."_

The words reverberated in the air, and for a moment Obi-Wan couldn't breathe, the overwhelming urgency of his confession stealing the air from his lungs like the rush of a tidal wave after a dam breaking. With a shuddering breath, he stumbled and stared incredulously at Anakin, a tentative, hopeful smile beginning to touch his lips as joy and profound _relief_ washed over him. Something deep within him had finally given way, something that had summoned the courage to override a lifetime of fear and denial of a single word and _allowed_ him to express what had so completely consumed his heart: Obi-Wan loved Anakin, he _loved_ him.

Stunned, Anakin blinked his wide-eyed surprise as a small, elated smile broke out across his face. He bit his lip, shivering from the unmitigated euphoria that tingled up his spine as four simple words continued to echo in his ears. _I love you, too._

The door hissed shut once more as Anakin wordlessly hastened back to Obi-Wan and wrapped them both up in a warm, solid embrace beneath his blanket, sighing deeply as he hid his face in the comforting warmth of the other man's neck.His heart felt ready to burst from the abundant satisfaction of not just _hearing_ Obi-Wan say that he loved him, but also knowing that he trusted Anakin, and even more importantly _himself_ , enough to actually voice the words. "You...you didn't have to—"

"Y-yes, I did. I wanted to," Obi-Wan insisted softly into the spill of curls that brushed against his lips. Closing his eyes, he sagged against Anakin's supportive frame and wound shaking arms around the younger man's waist, palming over the broad expanse of his back. He was so tired, so beyond exhausted, yet his mind, his _soul,_ teemed with a renewed vitality, as if his love for Anakin, and Anakin's for him, were his sole sustenance. "I l-love you, Anakin Skywalker, and I needed you— _you_ needed—to know that I do," he whispered solemnly, pressing an adoring, loving kiss into Anakin's hair.

"I already knew," Anakin assured him, choking back a sob as he crushed Obi-Wan closer to him. "But _F-Force_ , I'm glad you told me. Thank you, Obi-Wan, thank you," his lips murmured effusively against his Master's temple, his body trembling from the uninhibited cascade of ecstatic love and blissful peace flowing from Obi-Wan to him— _for_ him—now. "I love you, too...I love you, too."

" _An'kin..."_ Obi-Wan mumbled, his face pressed to Anakin's chest in a suffocating embrace. "Air...air would be good here," he coughed, chuckling lightly as the younger man's arms eased around him. "You know..." he stretched up, lovingly capturing Anakin's mouth in a final, affirming kiss, "you should probably really..."

"Go. Yeah..." Anakin nodded as he released Obi-Wan, taking a step back and flashing a beaming smile at his Master. He still didn't necessarily _want_ to go, but he took comfort in knowing that he could always, _would_ always, be welcomed back into Obi-Wan's arms. "I'll...I'll see you on deck at 1300 hours. Don't be late."

"When have I _ever_ been late?" Obi-Wan protested mildly, holding up a hand as Anakin smirked and opened his mouth to argue. "Oh no, no, no. If you're going to bring up that unfortunate business on Cato Neimoidia again, I will have no choice but to invoke _your_ tardiness on Christophsis," he scolded with a warm, playful grin, sinking back down to the mattress with a relieved sigh. Pulling the blanket over him, he waved Anakin off with a heartfelt smile, basking in the comforting glow of Anakin's Force-signature radiating around him, knowing even when they were apart, they would always be close.

"I will see you on deck."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about Anakin and Obi-Wan. I have taken the liberty of excluding canonical characters such as Padme and Ahsoka and do not adhere to a strict canonical timeline per se. I also make no direct reference to Anakin's prosthetic arm—it just kind of happened that way.


End file.
